Regarding Time Travel
by katmd
Summary: When a potions experiment goes awry, Hermione and Snape are transported back in time and find they are unable to return to the present, leaving Hermione stuck in a situation in which she must learn to deal with not one, but two Snapes.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: The characters, settings, etc. of the Harry Potter series are not mine. I just play with them.

**Regarding Time Travel  
**_Prologue_

Hermione seated herself in a chair before her kitchen table and set her cup of tea down away from her work area. She spread the six pieces of parchment she carried in her other hand before her. Lifting her wand, she softly said, "_accio_ quill, _accio_ ink," sending the items flying through her flat from where she'd had them last to land neatly on the table beside her tea. Waving her wand twice, she charmed the five pieces of parchment she would not be writing on to show all that she wrote on the sixth.

Satisfied that she was sufficiently prepared, she picked up her quill from the table. She dipped the nub into the ink bottle, and placing it on the piece of parchment that lay directly before her, she began to write.

_To: Supervising Board, Time Travel Research  
__Department of Magical Transportation  
__Ministry of Magic, London_

_From: Hermione J. Granger  
__Head Researcher, Time Travel Research  
__Department of Magical Transportation  
__Ministry of Magic, London_

_Subject: Re: Time Travel by way of Potions_

_Dears Sirs and Madams:_

_As you know, recent discoveries made in research regarding the use of Potions in the field of Time Travel have made experimentation imperative. I have conducted many preliminary experiments with a Time Travel potion using rats. _

_As far as I am able to discern, the experiments have been successful. After feeding the rats the potion, they have disappeared from the lab. If my research was conducted correctly, the potion should be sending them into another time, but it is impossible to know for sure. Rats are limited test subjects for they are unable to give themselves the potion needed to send them back to the present. Thus, while I am able to send many rats to a different time period, I am unable to bring any of them back to gather complete data. _

_It is for this reason that I am writing you. I have spent a great amount of time researching and brewing this set of time traveling potions, and I am quite certain that they should be successful. With your permission, I would like to _prove_ it. I would like to conduct a highly controlled experiment in which I test these potions on myself. In doing this, I would be able to gather complete data delineating the efficiency and the overall effectiveness of this potion._

_I understand that such an experiment could prove to be quite dangerous and that I would be risking my life in the process. But, this is a risk I am willing to take in the pursuit of knowledge. I am confident that the potions will yield successful results, and I do not greatly fear for my life._

_I urge you to consider my request and hope that you will grant me your permission to conduct this experiment. I thank you for your time and consideration on this matter._

_Sincerely,  
__Hermione J. Granger  
__Head Researcher  
__Order of Merlin, 2nd Class _

When she had finished signing the parchments, she folded them up and stuffed each one into an envelope. Once she'd finished, she addressed each envelope to the six members of the Supervising Board and placed them on her kitchen counter beside her keys.

In the morning, she would bring the letters to the local Public Owlery. And then, once her letters had been posted, Hermione would wait.

----  
_Author's Note: In my opinion, the use of time travel in fan fiction is _terribly_ clichéd. Particularly in this pairing. Under normal circumstances, I would not have used it, but the original idea that inspired this story is dependent upon it. So, please, please, please forgive my use of it. I will endeavor to make it happen in a quasi-original manner, and I promise that there will be no time turners involved._

_With that said, thanks for reading the prologue! I hope you stick around for the rest!_


	2. One

Disclaimer: The characters, settings, etc. of the Harry Potter series are not mine. I just play with them.

**Regarding Time Travel  
**_One_

Until the Time Travel Research team had begun to actively pursue her for employment, Hermione had never given much thought to the research conducted by the employees of the Ministry that regulated and experimented with the use of time turners. In fact, she hadn't given it any thought at all.

Certainly, Hermione had always been fascinated by time travel. She had been so amazed when, in her second year, she had read about time turners in one of the school library's many volumes on strictly regulated magical instruments. It had been so shocking to her to think that time travel was actually possible. She could hardly believe that it was not simply a muggle fancy, but that it was something that could and did actually happen.

However, after her third year and the discovery that time travel was quite tiring, Hermione's fascination waned. It had been an interesting and educational experience, but she knew that time traveling was not something she no longer wanted to pursue for the time being.

And so, Hermione Granger gave the entire concept no more thought until she received a letter in the week before she graduated from university. A man called Gerald Geoffrey had owled her about a position as a researching assistant that would soon be opening in his department at the Ministry of Magic. After reading the words 'researching assistant,' Hermione had merely skimmed the rest of the letter, noting something about traversing time and space, before she quickly grabbed up a piece of parchment to scribble a response to Mr. Geoffrey. She told him that she was very interested in meeting with him and asked if they could have lunch together at The Leaky Cauldron on the following Wednesday.

The day of their meeting arrived quickly and Hermione met Mr. Geoffrey for lunch. They went over the particulars of working research in this area of the Department of Magical Transportation. Mr. Geoffrey was frank with her, explaining that no matter how groundbreaking her research might be, it would most likely not garner much attention from the public or the media. Her achievements would likely go unrecognized, and Geoffrey explained that he felt it was important to tell her this up front. He had found, in his years of working with this research team, that his brightest and best often left after a few months in order to obtain employment with the other more exciting and renowned departments of the Ministry. Hermione had asked him how people could not find time travel exciting, and Geoffrey had replied quite matter-of-factly that because wizards had been doing it for years, it had lost a good deal of its novelty in the eyes of the public.

Geoffrey explained that this did not mean that there was no room for innovation in the field. He told Hermione that a creative mind like hers was just what the team needed. He told her that she had come with the highest recommendations and that he had been told that she gave everything she could to her research, was not afraid to take risks, and was constantly asking questions in order to learn more. In short, Geoffrey had said, she was just what they were looking for to fill a recently vacated position of researching assistant.

By the time their lunch had been served and they had ordered their second drink, Hermione had accepted the position. She went to work for the team exactly two weeks after she'd graduated from university.

It took her only half a year to work her way up from researching assistant to researcher. And a year and a half after being named a researcher to become head researcher of the team.

After working for there for five years, Hermione had accomplished much through her research. She had refined time turners, making them easier to operate and more practical for every day use. She oversaw numerous research efforts and experimentation in the use of charms in time travel. And most recently, Hermione had began toying with the idea of using Potions as a means to transport a wizard from one point in time to another.

At first, her research had yielded little information. Doubting, though, that her idea could be truly original, Hermione continued her research. She finally, after many months of reading and searching, struck gold. The information she had been looking for had been hidden, buried in the pages of a layman's guide to time travel that the department's library kept in stock for reasons beyond her comprehension.

The book, _Understanding Time Travel: A Guide for You and Me_, cited one historically documented instance of a wizard using a potion to traverse time periods. Hermione had searched the paragraph for anything that could be useful and found, in the second sentence, a name and a date. Using this information, Hermione continued her research, looking through books, journals, and any other credible source she could get a hold of that might possibly mention time traveling potions created by William Michelson in the year 1608.

It took her months before she found what she was looking for. She had been leafing through the preserved pages of the back copies of the _Prophet_ at the Ministry's library when she found it: the obituary of William Michelson, printed in the paper on the tenth of May, 1608. Hermione had quickly pulled a parchment from the book bag she carried with her, muttered a copying charm, and dragged her wand over the words of the obituary. Once they had been copied to her parchment, she had replaced the copies of the _Daily Prophet_ in their proper receptacles, took up her parchment, and ran to the biography section of the library.

The obituary had been written by a James Scott who, if the note beneath his name was to be believed, was Michelson's friend. James Scott, Hermione had recalled, had been a fairly famous wizard in his time. He had written many controversial articles regarding the enslavement of House Elves (Hermione had used some of his propaganda during her S.P.E.W. campaign), the treatment of Goblins, and had lobbied for the creation of an Ethical Treatment of Magical Creatures Committee within the Ministry's Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

Thus, while Hermione's previous search in the biography section for a book on Michelson had proved fruitless, she knew for certain that there would be books on Scott. And perhaps, if she was lucky, within the book on Scott there would be enough information to point her in the right direction to continue her research on Michelson.

Hermione had soon discovered that she was extremely lucky. For not only did she find many biographies on Scott, she even found copies of his own diaries. Diaries that, she quickly discovered, held detailed accounts of his friendship with William Michelson.

Scott, she found through her readings, had assisted Michelson with the creation of his time travel potion. He had been present when his friend brewed it, helped him gather the ingredients for it, and stayed with him when Michelson conducted his first and final experiment on the potion.

The diaries told of the morning Michelson took the potion that would transport him to another time, but Hermione carefully noted as she read that it also told, in great detail, of the days leading up to the experiment. Michelson had prepared for his trip. He had created not only a potion that would transport him to another time period, but one that would bring him back to his present time period, as well. Scott wrote that Michelson had packed a small bag to take with him as he traveled, the contents of which included a vial of the potion that would bring him back to 1608.

Michelson drank his potion on the fifth of May. Scott wrote in his diaries that he had watched his friend disappear from the lab in which they were conducting the experiment much in the same way he would have disappeared had he disapparated from the room. Scott recounted that he waited for days for William to return. On the fifth day, Scott knew his friend would not be coming back. Scott wrote that though he could not be completely certain, he did not think his friend's failure to come back was due to a problem with the return potion. Instead, Scott wrote that he knew, in his heart, that Michelson must have decided to remain in the alternate time to which he had traveled for reasons he was sure were valid.

And as she reached the end of Scott's account, Hermione's luck grew steadily stronger, for Scott had included a copy of his friend's notes, including the recipes for both of the potions.

Thanking whatever gods and goddesses that had decided to bless her, Hermione had taken her findings and had hurried off to her labs. The next few months were spent creating the potions and testing them on rats. Before long, Hermione decided that the only way to obtain an accurate collection of data on the potions would be to consume them herself. Thus, one evening near the end of March, Hermione had composed a letter to the board that supervised her experiments, asking for their permission to conduct an experiment in which she would test the potion on herself.

And one week later, on the first of April, Hermione Granger received an answer to her request.

---

The offices of Gerald Geoffrey often reminded Hermione of those of the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Stuffed into every corner and covering available surface in his office were trinkets, baubles, and gadgets. Some of them whirred while others bounced. There were silver ones, some made of gold, other objects were made of glass and placed on high shelves, and some of Geoffrey's toys were even made out of brightly colored plastic.

As Hermione sat in the chair before his desk waiting for her supervisor to appear for the meeting they had scheduled, she spent her time inspecting the object covered shelves. She noted, not for the first time, that Geoffrey did not have a single book on any of his shelves. There was nothing of use in his office, really, save the two quills, two pots of ink, and fresh stack of parchment he kept on top of his desk at all times. In the years that Hermione had known Geoffrey, she had come to the conclusion that he was a rather eccentric individual. He was very kind, though, and he truly loved his work, but he was nevertheless decidedly odd.

"Oh!" a voice exclaimed behind her, pulling her from her reverie. She turned slightly in her seat to see Gerald strolling into his offices, thumbs hooked on the belt loops of his bright red trousers and a grin fixed on his face. "Missed the quaffle release, have I?"

"Only by ten minutes," she replied with a smile as she watched him take a seat behind his desk.

"Well!" Gerald said as he rubbed his hands together. "Could be worse, couldn't it?"

"Certainly," Hermione agreed, giving him a small smile.

"Indeed, indeed, Ms. Granger." he said, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms over his chest. "So shall we get to business or would you like to engage in some pleasantries first?"

Hermione gave him a knowing grin. "Well, you _are_ the boss, Gerald. It's hardly my decision to make."

His smile grew. "Right you are, Birdie! I _am_ the boss and it is _my_ decision. So tell me, how's the Ron of yours?"

Hermione felt her cheeks warm as she shrugged. "We've broken up," she said softly. "It was just too difficult. I was always in London and he was always traveling around with quidditch. We didn't see each other often enough."

The smile left Gerald's face as he nodded gravely. "I _am_ sorry, Birdie, but these sorts of things happen. Just give him a few more years and once he's done with that quidditch nonsense he'll be begging you to take him back."

Hermione offered Gerald a smile in response. "We'll see, Gerald."

"And how's your Savior of all Wizardkind doing these days?" he asked.

"Oh, Harry's fine," she replied. "Busy with being an Auror and upholding the law."

Gerald nodded, grinning. "He's a good man, your Harry." He paused as his grin turned slightly wicked looking before he continued. "A good looking man, too. With a stable job that keeps him in London."

"Gerald," Hermione said, sighing. "Harry is my friend and that is all he is. I'm not attracted to Harry in the same way I was attracted to Ron. I have no interest in dating him or pursuing a relationship with him. So for the millionth time, please just drop it!"

Gerald chuckled gently. "All right, Birdie, all right. It's dropped. Over. Gone forever." Reaching outwards, he plucked a piece of parchment from his desk. "Down to business then?"

"Yes, please," Hermione said eagerly, leaning forwards toward the desk.

Gerald cleared his throat dramatically. "Against our better judgment, the rest of the supervising board and myself have decided to allow you to conduct this experiment--"

Hermione squeaked as she opened her mouth to thank him, but waving his hand in the air he cut her off.

"_However_, Birdie, we've decided to add in some conditions. You can conduct this experiment on the condition that you have an expert review your notes and examine your potion beforehand." He cleared his throat handing the piece of parchment he'd been holding across the desk to Hermione. "We've taken the liberty of arranging a meeting with an expert in the field of Potions for you."

"Oh thank you," Hermione said as she looked down at the paper, "that's very kin--" Hermione frowned as she reread the name of the Potions expert on the parchment three times, hoping that her eyes had deceived her. She then looked up to where Gerald sat across from her, grinning brightly.

"I hear _he's_ currently single, you know," he said teasingly. "Bloody brilliant man and a war hero to boot!"

Hermione narrowed her eyes and glared at Gerald. "You arranged a meeting with _him_, when I could easily have gone to one of the experts within the Ministry, just so you could play match maker!?"

"Oh come on, Hermione!" Gerald said, laughing. "It's just one meeting. I don't honestly expect anything to come of it. And anyway," he continued, "Severus Snape is unsurpassed in his field. He really is a brilliant man, and you should be grateful that he was kind enough to schedule a meeting with you."

Hermione glowered down at the letter Snape had written agreeing to see her. "He probably only did it so he could find flaws in the potions and use them to belittle me."

Gerald shrugged. "Perhaps, but only time will tell, my dear."

She looked up at him and sighed. "Well, anything for the sake of research, I suppose."

"That's the spirit!" he replied. "Just remember, you're no longer his student. He can't punish you for speaking out of turn or anything silly like that."

Hermione raised an eyebrow as she looked at Gerald. "You obviously don't know him very well. Even though he may not be able to give me detention, he could certainly find a way to punish me."

"Well," he said, "it can't be all that bad. It's not like he'd kill you or something."

Hermione sighed, folding up the parchment and placing it in her ever present book bag. She stood from her chair and hoisted the bag's straps onto her shoulders. "There are some fates, Gerald, that are worse than death."

---

Hermione met up with Harry in the Ministry cafeteria a few hours after her meeting with Gerald Geoffrey for lunch. After they had gotten their food and found an empty table, Hermione pulled the letter from her bag and handed it wordlessly over to Harry.

When he finished reading, he looked from the parchment to Hermione before skimming over the letter two more times. Once he'd finished his second read-through, Harry's face fell into a look of shocked disbelief. "You're not seriously going to go see him, are you?" he asked once he was finally able to tear his eyes away from the letter to look at his friend.

Hermione shrugged as she smashed her peas with her fork. "I don't know. The board wants me to see _him_ specifically. They arranged the meeting and everything."

"But," Harry said, "it's Snape. It's going to be awful."

She sighed, stabbing at her peas with a bit more fervor. "You think I haven't realized that?"

"Well," he said, "can't you go over their heads or something? Consult one of the potions people here at the Ministry and then just _say_ you went to see Snape?"

Hermione shot her friend a scandalized look. "Then I would end up having to lie to my bosses, Harry. And seeing as they are not only my bosses, but my friends as well, I just would not feel comfortable doing such a thing," she said, grinding her fork against her peas.

"Will you stop trying to make baby food and talk to me?!" Harry exclaimed. Sighing, Hermione dropped the utensil and looked at her friend. "This will probably end up being the worst meeting of your life," he continued. "For Snape, being given the opportunity to criticize your professional work will probably be an orgasmic experience."

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, blushing slightly at the thought of Snape having an orgasm.

"It's true, Hermione!" her friend said. "He _hates_ us. Hates us with the burning passion of one thousand really hot, really fiery suns. And now you're going to voluntarily walk into what could end up being the most terrible experience of your life." He paused to shake his head in disbelief. "Good luck," he finished, picking up his fork and using it to scoop some peas into his mouth.

Hermione scowled at him. "I thought we were supposed to be brave. We were Gryffindors once, weren't we?"

Harry snorted as he picked up his chicken leg and took a bite. "Yeah," he said, chewing the meat, "whatever."

"Anyway," Hermione began, taking a bite of her mashed peas before she continued. "It's been a few years. He might have changed a bit."

Harry snorted and took another bite of chicken. "And Hagrid and Filch will be marrying next Bank Holiday. Have I told you?"

Hermione grinned despite herself. "Shut up, Potter."

"Will do, Granger," he replied, smiling back.

----  
_Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Until next time!_


	3. Two

Disclaimer: The characters, settings, etc. of the Harry Potter series are not mine. I just play with them.

**Regarding Time Travel  
**_Two_

Wishing for the thousandth time that the apparition point could be moved at least a few hundred meters closer to the castle, Hermione trudged along the muddy path from Hogsmeade with her overnight bag in one hand and her book bag strapped across her back.

She'd had a week to prepare for her meeting with Professor Snape. Most of the week had been spent in a blind panic, and accordingly, Hermione had pushed the impending meeting to the very back of her mind. She had only allowed herself to think about the appointment three times during the preceding week. The first was when she received a letter from Minerva McGonagall asking her to stay the night at the castle so that the two of them could catch up on things. Minerva had mentioned the appointment with Snape briefly in her note, forcing Hermione to think about the meeting and causing a wave of anxiety to overtake her.

The second time she thought about Snape was when she awoke, scared silly, from a nightmare in which he had assigned her detention for bringing him a ludicrous potion proposal, demanding she alphabetize his entire library. The library, she had quickly discovered, was not only huge, stocked full of books, but also contained volumes whose spines bore titles written exclusively in Cyrillic. In her dream, Hermione had been staring at the rows and rows of books in horror when Crookshanks jumped onto her stomach and woke her.

The third instance was when she received an owl from Snape the day before she was to meet with him. Her stomach had tied itself in knots when she had seen her name written in that scratchy, spiky script at the top of the parchment. But she quickly saw that there was nothing to fear in this letter; Snape was simply writing to confirm their appointment for the next day. Seizing a quill from where it lay on her kitchen counter, Hermione had written a quick response on the same piece of parchment before rolling it up and sending it back to the school with the owl that had brought it.

Only this morning had Hermione actually tried to think of what she might say to Snape. As she organized her notes, she supposed she might do well to explain her job and the purpose of her research. While she was packing her overnight bag, she had the idea that to break the ice she might ask him about his own research. Perhaps if they were on the same level, speaking researcher to researcher, he would be more open to conversation and more agreeable.

She wasn't foolish enough to think he could possibly be nice.

It wasn't until Hermione was within the castle gates that she realized she had no idea how to address him. He was no longer her Professor, so the title would probably be superfluous. She thought it would be rather silly to refer to him as Mr. Snape, but it would be down right suicidal to call him Severus.

Frowning, Hermione passed through the front courtyard of the castle, making her way to the steps that lead to the door. She was wondering if she should just go directly down to the dungeons as she mounted the final step when the doors to the castle opened and Albus Dumbledore stepped outside.

"My dear, Miss Granger!" he exclaimed, stepping forward and taking her free hand in his own to shake it warmly. "It's just so lovely to see you! How long is it been since you last visited? Three years now?"

"Yes, sir," she replied, grinning up at him. "Three years, sir."

"Far too long, in any case," he said, offering her elbow to her. Hermione placed her hand in the crook of his arm and allowed him to lead her inside. "How have you been? How is the Department of Magical Transportation?"

"Oh," Hermione said as they passed through the front corridor, turning away from the Great Hall in the direction that she knew would lead them to the dungeons. "Lovely."

Dumbledore smiled at her as they walked onwards. "I do hope Severus will be able to help you with your research. He certainly has been looking forward to this meeting."

Hermione looked up at the elderly headmaster. Had he gone completely senile since she'd last seen him? "He has?"

"Oh yes!" Dumbledore exclaimed. "Couldn't stop talking about it!"

Hermione frowned as she tried to digest this information. Snape couldn't stop talking about their meeting? It seemed terribly odd that he would do such a thing. She had thought Snape would hardly mention the appointment, certain that he would be just as eager as she was to pretend it wasn't going to happen.

"Here we are!" Dumbledore said cheerfully, interrupting her thoughts and drawing her attention to the fact that they now stood before the door to Snape's offices.

It was in this moment, as she watched the headmaster lift his hand and knock on the door, that she realized that the old man had refrained from telling her what _sort_ of thing Snape had been saying about their appointment. When the door opened swiftly and Hermione found herself looking up into the scowling face of her former Potions professor, she knew he'd probably been complaining.

"Good afternoon, Headmaster," Snape said softly. "Miss Granger."

She gulped as his gaze met hers, but offered him a weak smile. She noted that he still referred to her as Miss Granger, just as he had when she was a student. Hermione supposed this was evidence enough that she was expected to call him Professor Snape.

"Hello, Severus!" Dumbledore said cheerily. "I just thought I'd escort Miss Granger down here in case she'd forgotten where your offices were. She hasn't been here for three years, did you know?"

"Oh," Snape said, his voice silky and his eyes never leaving Hermione, "I know."

Hermione gave Snape a tight lipped grin, but it quickly vanished when she realized he was still glaring at her.

"Well," Dumbledore said. Hermione glanced up at him and saw that he was giving Snape a warning look. "I hope the two ofyou enjoy your meeting, and I will see you both at dinner!"

Hermione nodded at the headmaster when he gave her one last parting smile before turning her attention back to Snape. He said nothing as the headmaster left, but simply watched her. She stood before him, allowing him to study her and doing her best not to fidget under her gaze.

"Come along then, Miss Granger," he said after a moment, standing aside in the doorway. "I don't have all day."

"Yes," Hermione replied. She stepped past him and entered his office. She took a seat in one of the chairs that rested before his desk, placing her overnight back on the floor before her and putting her book bag on the ground beside her chair.

She heard Snape close the door and watched him as he glided through his office, seating himself behind his desk. He settled himself in his chair; clasping his hands together, he placed them on the desk and looked expectantly at Hermione.

Under his gaze, she felt her throat go dry. She struggled to remember even one of the ideas she'd had for a conversation starter. "So," she began, hoping something would come to her, "how are you?"

Snape smirked at her. "I have never been worse, Miss Granger. And how are you?"

"Terrified," she replied without thinking. When she realized what she said, she brought a hand up to cover her mouth and stared wide-eyed at Snape as he sneered.

"Indeed?" he said, raising an eyebrow. "And where is that Gryffindor courage I've heard so much about?"

Hermione let her hand drop down to her lap, her gaze following. She shrugged. "I'm afraid it must have abandoned me when I graduated."

Snape made a snorting sound, causing Hermione to glance back up at him. She was displeased to see that he looked highly amused. But as quickly as the expression of amusement crossed his features, it disappeared. He cleared his throat as he tilted his chin downward and glared at her. "I confess that the headmaster did not tell me much about your potion question. All I have been told is that an old friend of his contacted him in the hopes that he would manage to convince me to meet with you to assist you in analyzing a potion."

Hermione nodded. "Yes that's right," she said, and as an after thought added, "sir."

Snape looked very amused by _that_. He smirked at her as he leaned back in his chair, studying her silently for a few moments. "You are no longer a student, Miss Granger," he said softly, "and while it is kind of you to address me with such, ah, _respect_, there is really no need."

Hermione stared at him. What was he getting at? Was he testing her? "Are you serious?"

He smirked. "Am I ever not?"

She shrugged. "I don't think I know you well enough to say, Professor."

"That is true," he replied.

They sat silently for a few moments. Hermione studied the geometric pattern on the rug that covered the cold stone floor of the dungeons, all the while sensing that Snape was studying her.

"You needn't look so melancholy, Miss Granger," he said after a few moments, "this is not detention."

Hermione choked back a giggle at this.

"What amuses you?" he asked, and Hermione noticed that he did not use the demanding tone he usually employed when questioning someone. Goodness, it was almost as if he was being nice.

Looking up at him, she saw that he was watching her expectantly. "I had a dream," she explained. "You'd given me detention and told me to alphabetize your library, but all of the titles on the spines were written in Cyrillic and I was unable to complete the task you'd assigned."

Snape smirked at this. "The horror."

"Precisely," Hermione replied, giving him a small smile. Feeling that the ice had sufficiently be broken and silently applauding herself for eventually finding a way to do it, she cleared her throat and decided to push on. "The potions I've brought for you to look at act to transport a person from one time period to another and back again."

Snape nodded, and Hermione took this as incentive to keep going. "Both of the potions are fairly old. They were first created in 1608 by a wizard named Michelson."

She watched Snape's eyebrow rise fractionally at this. "Michelson?" he asked, leaning forward in his chair to rest his elbows on his desk. "William Michelson?"

"Yes, that's right," Hermione replied, nodding.

"Michelson is a highly revered among Potions masters. He was a genius, if you will. He created some of the most influential and important potions ever," Snape said. "Though, in his time, his contemporaries convinced themselves that he was nothing more than a crackpot old fool who enjoyed socializing with Muggles. And anyway, he _died_ in 1608, Miss Granger."

"Er," said Hermione, "not really."

The eyebrow rose higher. "Not really?"

"Well, I know his obituary appeared in the _Daily Prophet _on the tenth of May that year. So everyone thought he'd died, but hadn't really," she said.

"Explain," he commanded.

"The obituary, which I have with me if you'd like to see it," Hermione said, reaching for her bag, but Snape waved her offer away so she continued. "Well, the obituary was written by his friend James Scott. When I'd searched for books on Michelson and his achievements in the library at the Ministry, I wasn't able to find anything. I guess that was because his contemporaries didn't like him, so they didn't write on him," she paused as Snape nodded to confirm her suspicions, "I thought that if I looked up information on Scott it might lead me to something on Michelson.

"I found plenty of books on Scott, since he was such a political activist, you know, and I happened across his diaries in the Ministry library. I started with the entries in April and May of 1608, and luckily enough, Scott seemed to have a great deal of involvement with Michelson and his experiments."

"They were lovers," Snape cut in.

"Excuse me?" Hermione said, caught off guard by the interruption to her recitation.

"Scott and Michelson were lovers. They lived together, Miss Granger. That is why Scott was so involved with the experiment," he said.

"Oh," Hermione replied, nodding. "I see. Well, I guess that explains the vast amounts of praise for Michelson that Scott included in his accounts."

"Indeed," Snape said, smirking again.

"Anyway," Hermione went on, "Scott wrote that Michelson consumed the potion to leave their time period on the fifth of May, and took the potion to return back to 1608 along with him. Except that he never came back. So, that's why they said he died and that's why the obituary was printed."

"I see," Snape said. "And you managed to brew these potions for yourself how?"

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed, a smile appearing on her face as she leaned forward slightly, "that's the really lucky part. At the end of the entry in which Scott writes about accepting that Michelson isn't coming back, which was really quite sweet and nicely written, you know, Scott copied the recipes for the two potions from Michelson's notes!"

Snape smirked at her, tapping his forefinger lightly on the surface of his desk. "You have a copy of the notes with you, I imagine?"

"Yes, Professor," she replied.

"And the potions?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, nodding. "I have three vials of each with me."

Snape nodded and stood from his chair. "Then let us adjourn this meeting to my lab, and I will take a look at what you have, Miss Granger."

---

Snape's lab was warm. Hermione had noticed that while the rest of the dungeons were terribly cool and damp, Snape's personal lab was quite warm and dry. Hermione didn't know if this was attributed to the numerous bubbling, boiling, and simmering cauldrons he had dispersed throughout the room or a warming charm he might be maintaining, but she didn't really care either way as long as it stayed as pleasantly temperate as it was right now.

When they entered the room, Hermione set her overnight bag down in the corner by the door. She set her book bag down next to it, but made sure to take the makeup bag she'd placed her vials of the potion in and her copy of the notes out of it. With these things in hand, she made her way over the table Snape stood beside.

She placed the items down onto the space he had cleared for them and stood beside him. She watched as he reached into his robe pocket and pulled out an eyeglass case, and she tried not gasp as she saw him retrieve a pair of spectacles from within and set them on his nose.

"Why are you gawking?" he asked as he lifted the first leaf of parchment and began to read.

"You've glasses now," she said.

"I see you're still mastering the observation of the blatantly obvious," he murmured as his eyes skimmed the page.

Hermione giggled at this, and Snape turned his gaze on her and glared. "Funny now, am I?" he asked.

"Well," she replied, "yes, rather."

Snape gave her a very odd look before directing his attention back to the parchment. Hermione waited silently as he read the first before placing it back on the table and picking up the second. He read through the second, third, fourth, and fifth pieces of parchment in less than five minutes. Once he had restacked the papers neatly, he picked up the makeup bag and unzipped it. Hermione watched him as he took out one vial of each of the potions.

"The green one takes you away from the present," Hermione said, "and the yellow brings you back."

"Yes, I gathered as much from the notes," Snape said as he took the vial of green potion and held it up before the light. "This is well brewed, Miss Granger," he said as he set it back on the table and picked up the other vial filled with the yellow potion, and doing the same with it as he did the green. "This is as well."

"Thank you," Hermione said softly, blushing as she realized that this was the first time Snape had ever praised her work.

"Honestly, Miss Granger," Snape said, as he took off his glasses and set them atop the pile of parchment on the table, "I believe that if you've followed Michelson's directions to the letter that there is no reason why these potions won't work. The rats the headmaster said you'd been testing are more than likely off somewhere in the distant past, running around and spreading disease."

"Oh really, Professor?" Hermione asked eagerly, not noticing that her hand had somehow ended up on Snape's forearm. "Oh, do you really think so?"

"Yes, Miss Granger," he said, sneering as he looked down at where her hand touched his arm, "I really do."

"Oh!" Hermione said, pulling her hand away quickly. "I'm sorry. I was just so worried that you'd say that they weren't safe and that I wouldn't be able to conduct my experiment."

"They _aren't_ safe," Snape replied. "Who can say when and where you would be transported? Who can say what is waiting for you in the other time period?"

Hermione frowned. "But Professor, those are dangers inherent of any experiment dealing with time travel."

"Yes, I realize that, Miss Granger," he snapped, "but my opinion remains that these are very risky experiments for you to conduct on your own."

Hermione sighed and frowned down at the vials. "I understand."

"However," Snape continued, "I will discuss this matter with the headmaster after dinner. I'm sure he'll be able to concoct some plan that will allow you to do your tests."

Her head snapped up when she comprehended his words. She stared at him silently for a few moments until her face broke out into a wide grin and she felt compelled to speak. "Oh thank you, Professor Snape! Thank you so much!"

Snape gave her a small smirk that Hermione thought bordered on a smile in return. "You're welcome, Miss Granger."

----  
_Notes: The colors of the potions come from the colors of the stones of the rings in C.S. Lewis's _The Magician's Nephew

_Thanks very much for reading! And thanks to those of you who have been kind enough to review!_


	4. Three

Disclaimer: The characters, settings, etc. of the Harry Potter series are not mine. I just play with them.

**Regarding Time Travel  
**_Three_

Hermione suddenly felt quite shy as she strolled into the Great Hall beside Snape. She couldn't help but notice the way hundreds of little eyes were glued to she and Snape as they made their way up to the head table, nor could she ignore the whispers that started as she took a seat between Snape and McGonagall.

"Hermione!" Minerva exclaimed once she'd sat down, taking her hand in her own and patting it gently. "It is just so wonderful to see you, my dear, dear girl! How was the walk from Hogsmeade?"

"Muddy," Hermione confessed, giving her friend a smile. "The path was horrific."

"Oh, I can imagine," Minerva replied. "We had the most wretched storms just a few days ago. Weren't they just horrible, Severus?"

"Yes," Snape said shortly as he took a sip from his wine glass, "horrible."

"I'm sure they made the path into a terrible, mucky mess," Minerva concluded. "I do hope your shoes weren't ruined."

"Oh no," Hermione said, "I just cast a few charms to wick the mud away."

"Of course you did," Minerva replied, beaming at her. "You always were able to think of just the right charms for every situation."

Their conversation waned momentarily when their meal appeared on their plates. Hermione, feeling as though it had been simply ages since she'd had that quick lunch before she left her flat for Hogsmeade, dug into the meal enthusiastically.

"So tell me, dear," Minerva began after Hermione had been eating for a few moments. "Was Severus able to help you with your potions quandary?"

"Yes," Hermione said, nodding, "Professor Snape was very helpful." She chose to ignore the snorting sound Snape made upon this pronouncement and flashed Minerva a quick grin.

"Well, that is very good news," Minerva said as she took a delicate bite of her piece of roast beef also choosing to ignore Snape. "So, Hermione, how is everything with Ronald?"

Hermione frowned as the subject turned to her relationship with Ron and looked down at her plate, turning her gaze away from her old friend and mentor. She pushed at her mashed potatoes with her fork and tried to think of a suitable answer. Hermione supposed she should have better prepared herself for this line of questioning as Minerva was _always_ pestering her about marrying Ron. "Actually, Minerva," Hermione said as she looked up at her friend, settling for telling the truth, "Ron and I have decided to split up."

"No!" Minerva exclaimed, dropping her fork onto her plate and sending mashed potatoes flying. Hermione thought the older woman looked quite silly, her mouth hanging open like a fish and potatoes smattered onto the front of her pristine, tartan robes.

"Yes," Hermione said. "We just weren't able to spend enough time together, what with Ron's traveling for quidditch, to make the relationship work. So, we decided to give it up." She paused to shrug. "We're better at being friends anyway, I think."

"Well, that is just devastating! I was hoping the two of you would marry!" Minerva said, clucking her tongue. "Isn't that too bad, Severus?"

"Yes, I am devastated by the news," Snape drawled from his place beside Hermione, drawing her attention to him. She watched as he cut off a piece of his slice of roast beef, stabbed it with his fork, and stuck it in his mouth before turning his head slightly in her direction so that he might look at her and raise his eyebrow questioningly.

Hermione pursed her lips and looked back at her own plate, continuing to push her potatoes around with her fork. It bothered her, for some reason, that Snape looked at her that way. It also bothered her that he seemed completely indifferent towards the happenings of her life. Not that she could honestly expect him to have given half a damn about her, but was it too much to expect a standard "oh, I'm sorry, Miss Granger" from him when he heard that the potential love of her life had left her?

"You'll find, Miss Granger," Snape said softly, interrupting her thoughts, "that you'll receive the potatoes' full nutritional benefits if you eat them instead of simply just play with them."

"Oh really?" Hermione replied, deliberately mashing her potatoes with the fork to create a lovely grid pattern. "That _is_ interesting, Professor."

Minerva cleared her throat loudly and suddenly, causing Hermione to redirect her attention to her friend and leaving Snape to dine once again in silence. "And how is Harry doing, Hermione?"

Hermione shrugged and offered her friend another small smile. "Oh, you know Harry. Doing his best to save the world all day, every day."

Minerva nodded, smiling back at Hermione. Minerva, Hermione noted, made no effort to hide the glow of pride that overtook her features at the thought of Harry and his accomplishments. "He's such a good boy."

"He is," Hermione agreed, nodding, and just barely noticing the scoffing noise Professor Snape made.

"Very good looking as well," Minerva continued, "and if I remember correctly, he's not seeing anyone…"

"No," Hermione responded quickly. "No, married to that work of his. Such a hard worker. Not interested in dating. Especially not girls he knew at Hogwarts or who know him as the boy who saved the world and all that," Hermione rambled, desperately trying to stop Minerva before she even suggested that she and Harry try to become an item. "He said he's thinking about dating Muggles. Exclusively."

"Oh," Minerva said, visibly disappointed. "I see."

"Yes," Hermione nodded, relieved that she was able to get her point across without having to spell it out for her friend.

"You know," Minerva said, leaning over slightly and whispering conspiratorially into Hermione's ear, "Severus is still single."

And with that, Hermione pushed her chair away from the table and stood quickly. "Well, dinner really has been lovely and it's been so wonderful to see you, Minerva, but I am positively exhausted, so I'm afraid I must go to sleep. Will I be staying in the same rooms as last time?"

"Well, yes, of course, dear," Minerva began, "I've had the elves take your bags from Severus's lab over to the rooms. But certainly you'll stay for dessert, won't you?"

Hermione stepped away from the table, pushing her chair back under. "Oh no, I'm just so exhausted. We'll talk more in the morning, Minerva, at breakfast and afterwards."

Hermione paused to turn to look at the back of Snape's head. "Thank you for the assistance with the potions today, Professor," she said quickly and after giving Minerva one last grin, she fled the Great Hall. Hermione practically ran all the way through the castle to her guest rooms, thinking the entire time about the immeasurable embarrassment that would have inevitably followed if Minerva had begun to try to fix Hermione up with Snape.

-

The house elves who had made up Hermione's rooms were either of a new generation or had somehow managed to completely forget her ill-fated attempts to liberate their entire race. When she entered her rooms, she saw that a fire was crackling merrily in her fireplace, but charms had been cast to keep the temperature of the room comfortably warm. On the table before the fire lay a plate of what appeared to be that night's dessert which she had been forced to forfeit by her urgent need to flee the Great Hall.

Strolling over to her bed, she saw that it had been made with the school's best linens, the ones that were always put on Harry's bed when he came to visit. She usually got the lowest thread count, scratchiest, cotton sheets the elves had stored in the very back of the linen closet. Hermione saw that they had unpacked her overnight bag, laying her nightie at the end of the bed. Taking the few steps to the wardrobe, she opened its doors and saw that her clothes for the next day had been hung up carefully, and that her empty overnight bag lay inside on the bottom floor of the piece.

She walked back to the bed, took off her clothes, and pulled on her nightgown. She then picked up her discarded clothes, folded them up neatly, and stuck them in her bag. Closing the wardrobe doors when she was done, Hermione turned to find her book bag. She quickly saw that the elves had considerately placed it beside the desk that was situated in a corner of the room beside the fireplace.

Hermione crossed the room and seated herself behind the desk. Leaning back in her chair, she stretched her back before pulling from her bag the two thousand paged volume on time turners she had brought with her for a little light reading before bed. She opened the book to the introduction, shifted in her chair so that she could seat herself more comfortably and tuck her legs beneath her, and began to read. She had just come to the second chapter of the book when she heard a quick, perfunctory knock on her door. Picking up her wand from where it lay on the desk beside her book, she took down the wards absently, and called, "Come in!"

She heard the door open and close as someone stepped inside the room. "Just one second, please," Hermione said as she reached into her bag, trying to pull out a piece of parchment to mark her place while keeping her eyes on the text.

"Oh, please take your time, Miss Granger," the low voice of her visitor drawled"I can most certainly spare my entire night to wait for you to mark you place." Hermione froze in her seat as she registered the identity of the voice's owner. Shaking her head, she grabbed up a piece of parchment, stuck it in the book hurriedly, and stood up from her seat, turning around to look at her guest.

"Good evening, Professor," she said, suddenly wishing she hadn't decided to bring her short black nightie. The damned thing didn't even have sleeves and the neckline was low enough that he could see, well, practically everything. Her discomfort grew greatly at this thought and led Hermione to cross her arms in front of her chest. "What can I do for you?"

"Inviting me to take a seat would be the most polite course of action," he said as his eyes quickly took in her form, making her feel, if it were possible, even more uncomfortable.

"Well, yes," Hermione replied, "by all means, have a seat."

Snape nodded, pulling his robes closer to him as he took a seat in one of the high backed leather chairs before the fire. He raised an eyebrow as he let his gaze sweep over her once again. "Won't you be joining me, Miss Granger?"

"Er," said Hermione, thinking of how high the bottom of her nightgown would ride up if she sat, "no. I'd prefer to stand if that's all right."

Snape sneered. "I believe you are allowed to do as you like, Miss Granger. You are a creature of free will, are you not?"

Hermione smiled, though she kept her arms crossed tightly before her. "Last I checked, yes."

"I've spoken to the headmaster about your experiments," he began suddenly, "and he agrees with me that such experimentation is very dangerous, especially for you to do on your own." As he finished, Snape crossed his arms before him as well and gave Hermione a look that seemed to dare her to challenge his statement.

Hermione could not help but to sigh. "I see."

"But," Snape continued, giving her a very solemn glare, "he promised to sleep on the problem and said that he hoped to have an answer to this, er, quandary in the morning. This month's password to his offices is gumdrop. He says that you are to meet with him in his offices when you've finished your breakfast."

Hermione felt her brow furrow for a few seconds as she stared confusedly at her former professor. This was not the turn she had expected their conversation to take. "Really?" she asked, taking a step forward.

"Yes," Snape sneered, "really."

"Oh! Thank you, Professor! I can't thank you enough!" Hermione exclaimed. "Thank you for going to Dumbledore, and thank you for trying to help me with this."

"Don't thank me for helping you. You make me sound entirely too noble," Snape said as he stood abruptly from his chair. "I am merely assisting you so that I might have the opportunity to observe and oversee the experimentation of a Michelson potion. This is a very unique opportunity for the both of us, Miss Granger, and it is not one that I will stand by and let go to waste because a little girl with no Potions training botches it."

Hermione nodded, but did not let Snape see her indignation at being called a little girl. "I understand."

Snape watched her silently for a few moments. "Indeed," he said, turning to walk toward the door. Hermione watched after him as he went, pausing in the doorway to sweep his gaze over her figure once more. "Pleasant dreams, Miss Granger," he said softly in a tone that Hermione could only think to describe as suggestive and smirked at her quickly before closing the door behind him.

She was far too busy gawking at his back, which was quickly replaced in her line of vision by the door, to respond.

-

Breakfast with Minerva was quite painful. Since Snape had decided to not grace the Great Hall with his presence, the older woman had took the opportunity to praise his every aspect in great detail.

"He shampoos now, you know," Minerva said as she buttered her toast. "And uses a very nice light conditioner that is just perfect for his hair."

"How nice," Hermione replied as she stabbed idly at her scrambled eggs with her fork.

"His last girlfriend had been very adamant that he care for his hair, and Severus seemed to like her a great deal, so he happily did as she asked," Minerva continued. "And he's certainly benefited from it. The conditioner is just perfect, you know. Just the right amount of moisture to balance the excess he has. Poor dear."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. It was difficult to imagine Snape having a romantic relationship. "When did he have this girlfriend?"

"Oh, they've only just stopped seeing each other," Minerva explained. "But their ending it was for the best, you know. She was one of those witches who are only interested in attending Ministry galas on the arm of a war hero who has an Order of Merlin pinned to his chest."

"Oh," said Hermione, "one of _those _witches." Hermione had met plenty of those sort of witches and wizards since she, Harry, and Ron had gotten their Orders of Merlin.

"But Severus isn't seeing anyone _now_, you know," Minerva said for what Hermione was certain was the thirtieth time that morning.

"Yes," she replied, "you happened to mention that."

"Did I?" Minerva said, failing to conceal the little grin that adorned her face. "Must have slipped my mind."

The rest of the meal had continued in much of the same manner. Hermione heard countless tales of Severus's recent academic accomplishments, how he had assisted in Hagrid in capturing a few dangerous magical creatures that had taken to inhabiting the forbidden forest, how he had taken up knitting and made Minerva a lovely set of mittens for Christmas.

"Knitting?" Hermione had interjected when her friend revealed this particular bit of information. "He knits?"

"Oh yes, dear," Minerva said. "He's quite adept to it as well. He has wonderful tactile skills."

"That's lovely," Hermione said, unable to hide the smile that Minerva's words conjured. "That's really nice."

When they had finished eating and talking, Hermione said one last good bye to Minerva in the Great Hall. She explained to her old friend that she did indeed _have_ to leave breakfast early in order to attend her meeting with the headmaster, but to make up for cutting their visit short, she promised to write her at least once a week and to visit at least once every three months.

Hermione managed to get away from the Great Hall in a relatively short amount of time. As she walked through the hallways of the school until she came to the gargoyle that guarded the stairway to Dumbledore's office, she felt her anticipation build. She hoped and prayed that he would have an answer to her problem and that he would be able to find a way that would allow her to safely conduct her experiment.

When she came to the gargoyle, she gave the password, mounted the first steps to the staircase when they appeared, and hurriedly made her way to the top. She soon found herself standing before the door to the headmaster's office, knocking gently.

"Come in, Miss Granger!" she heard his cheerful voice call from within. She turned the doorknob, opened the door, and stepped inside his office, quickly shutting the door behind her with a decisive snap.

Dumbledore was seated behind his desk, grinning at her, and in one of the chairs before his desk, Severus Snape sat, scowling at her.

"Er," Hermione began, taking a hesitant step forward. "Good morning." Was Snape always so wretched looking in the mornings or had she done something particular to make him grumpier than usual?

"Good morning!" Dumbledore replied. "Please take a seat, Miss Granger, so that we can get right to business."

Hermione nodded and stepping forward, took the seat beside Snape's. She noticed that he had not ceased glowering at her.

Once she had sat down, Dumbledore gestured to the candy bowl on his desk. "Lemon drop?"

Hermione shook her head to decline, and Dumbledore continued speaking. "I thought long and hard about your predicament last night, Hermione," he began. "I know how much the pursuit of knowledge means to you, and I know that once you have assigned yourself a project that you are very, very reluctant to give it up."

Hermione nodded. "Yes, sir."

The headmaster smiled at her. "Then you will be pleased to learn that I believe I have found a way for you to conduct your experiment in a manner that will not only ensure your safety, but also allow someone else to benefit from your studies."

Hermione began to respond, but stopped when the words Snape had spoken to her the previous evening suddenly passed through her mind. She frowned. A unique opportunity for the both of them, indeed.

"But who will teach Professor Snape's classes while he is away?" Hermione asked.

She ignored the sputtering noises that seemed to erupt from the man beside her and chose, instead, to focus on Dumbledore's cheery expression. "Well done, Miss Granger," the elderly man said. "You have always been a terribly clever girl."

Hermione blushed slightly at the compliment. "Thank you, sir."

"That is your master plan?" Snape hissed. "To send _me_ along with the girl? I did not sign on for this, Albus. I simply said that I would watch over the girl's experiments to make sure she didn't blow herself up or put out an eye or something. I had no intentions of time traveling! And why on earth would you think to send me with her!"

"Who better to send, Severus," Dumbledore said, continuing to grin at his employee, "than a brave war hero, a powerful wizard, and a Potions Master who will be able to assist her in the event that something goes wrong with the return potion?"

"Anybody," Snape growled. "Anybody other than myself would be better, Albus."

Dumbledore tilted his head so that he could look sternly over the top of his glasses at Snape. "You're going."

Hermione watched Snape from the corner of her eye as his face turned from its usual pallid color, to a pretty red, to a lovely shade of puce as a vein in his forehead bulged outwards slightly. To his credit, he said nothing.

"I have given this much thought," Dumbledore went on, his expression remaining quite serious. "And if the studying of time travel I have done is correct, if you consume the potion within the castle, you are very likely to be transported into another time period within the castle. Am I correct, Miss Granger?"

"Yes," Hermione replied. "In most instances, this is usually what happens when one time travels. However, given that there are no accounts of the effects of this particular potion, we can only guess what will happen."

"True, true," Dumbledore replied. "However, on the chances that our guesses are correct, we can assume that you will leave this time, but you will never leave the castle. This will make your situation much easier.

"In order to prepare for the worst, I think it is wise that I send you on your journey with letters of introduction and recommendation. I also thought that it might be wise to send you along with something that is kept only by the headmasters of this school. Thought it might lend a bit of validity to your story," Dumbledore said, grinning at his two companions. "I also think it might be wise that you bring a few vials of Beautification Potion along with you."

Hermione, slightly affronted by the thought that Dumbledore was suggested her appearance could do with some adjustments, frowned. "Why is that, sir?"

"Because," Snape growled from beside her. "If we send ourselves back to a time in which we inhabit the castle, we will need to change our appearance to avoid recognition by ourselves."

"Oh," said Hermione, noting that Snape refused to look in her direction. "Right. Of course."

"I believe you have some in stock, Severus?" the headmaster asked.

Snape nodded, and Hermione could not help but stare at him, her eyebrow raised. "It's not for me," he snapped, though he still did not turn his glare on her. "I supply it to some of the elderly witches of Hogsmeade."

"Oh," said Hermione, smiling slightly. It was almost kind of him to provide the witches with the potion, but she supposed he only did it for profit.

Dumbledore chuckled. "I think this is going to be a wonderful experience for the both of you! A chance for two of my most brilliant minds to collaborate on a project! Wonderful. Simply wonderful. I'm sure the two of you will become fast friends!"

Hermione frowned and could see Snape grimace from the corner of her eye.

"Now," Dumbledore said, rising from his seat, "I believe we have covered most of the important bits. I suggest the two of you head back to your rooms and prepare yourselves for your journey! I'll prepare your letters and find you a token to bring."

He paused to look at his watch. "Let's meet in the Room of Requirement tomorrow after breakfast. I think that will be the perfect time to send you off."

Hermione nodded and bid the headmaster a good morning. She stood from her seat and moved to make her way to the door as Snape swept past her dramatically. At least, she thought to herself as she stepped through the doorway after him, it was going to be a very interesting experience.

-  
_Note: Thanks for reading and thanks to those who have reviewed!_


	5. Four

Disclaimer: The characters, settings, etc. of the Harry Potter series are not mine. I just play with them.

**Regarding Time Travel  
**_Four_

Hermione spent an hour and a half after her meeting with the headmaster and Snape pacing the floor in front of her fireplace, wringing her hands, and trying her best to calm down. But it was impossible. She was ecstatic that she was going to be able to conduct her experiment, but she was slightly frightened as well. The one other person who had time traveled by potions had never returned to his year of origin. What if not returning hadn't been Michelson's choice as Scott had written? What if he had been trapped or killed or God knew what else?

Was this a risk she was willing to take? Was she willing to forsake her life and chance that she may be forced to spend the rest of her life stuck in another period of time with Severus Snape?

Hermione shook her head. Of course she was willing. This was research, this was the pursuit of knowledge, and this was what she _lived _for. She couldn't let one or two silly, little, insignificant fears get in the way of her learning!

Suddenly, Hermione stopped her pacing and scurried over to the desk. She picked up her book bag and set it on top, peering inside. She would bring the bag with her because, firstly, she brought it everywhere with her and, secondly, it would be useful for carrying the vials of the various potions they would be bringing along, as well as Michelson's notes, and the token and notes Dumbledore would be sending along in case of the worst.

Hermione took the book she'd been reading out of the bag and set it atop the desk. It would still be here when she returned. She reorganized her copy of Michelson's notes neatly in her bag, tucked the bag of vials safely inside beside the notes, and left room for all of Dumbledore's additions.

And with that, she was finished. Hermione Granger was packed and ready to go into the past. Or the future, maybe. She wasn't certain which direction the potion would take her, but she was ready nonetheless.

She glanced down at her watch, and saw that it was just after noon. The Great Hall would just be serving lunch, and she still had twenty two hours before she and Snape began the experiment.

Sighing as she realized that she had a great deal of time to kill, Hermione decided to go down to the hall for lunch. Maybe Minerva could distract her by prattling about more eligible bachelors for awhile.

-

"Hermione!" Minerva exclaimed as the young woman seated herself beside her friend at the head table. "You've not gone back to London?"

"Oh no," Hermione said, shaking her head. "Didn't the headmaster tell you? I'll be conducting my experiment here. With Professor Snape."

Minerva's eyes widened slightly. "Will you now?" she asked, looking down at her plate in an effort to conceal her smile. "How lovely."

"Unlovely, you mean," Hermione said, as she took a sip of her pumpkin juice. "I get a feeling Professor Snape will try to leave me behind when he returns."

"Why would he do that?" Minerva asked, looking slightly appalled.

"As Harry once put it, Snape hates me with the passion of one thousand very hot and fiery suns," Hermione explained.

"Oh," Minerva said, frowning and shaking her head. "I don't know about that."

Hermione laughed shortly. "You should have seen his face when Dumbledore said that he was to go with me! I thought his head was going to explode!"

"Oh, I don't think that's possible," Minerva replied. "Without the application of an outside force, at least."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Minerva, you could at least pretend to be concerned for me."

Minevra offered her a tight lipped smile. "Have you written your supervisor about the plan? Oh and Harry as well?"

"No, I haven't," Hermione said. "I hadn't thought of that either. Thank you. I should probably tell my neighbor that I will likely need him to feed Crookshanks for a couple more evenings."

"Oh yes," her friend said, "Crookshanks would be very upset if he was forced to go without food for a few days."

"Mmm," Hermione said as she brought a spoonful of the stew they were having to her mouth. "Minerva," she continued after she'd swallowed, "how long had you known Professor Snape before you began calling him by his first name?"

"Oh," she replied, pursing her lips as she paused to think about her answer, "a little over twenty years, I think."

"Twenty?" Hermione echoed.

"Yes," Minerva replied, "he'd been teacher here for quite some time before he finally gave me permission to call him Severus."

"Permission?" Hermione said, her eyes widening slightly.

"Yes, permission," Minerva confirmed, nodding.

"He's, um, a bit difficult to work with?" Hermione asked.

"Well, yes a bit," her friend replied. "But he's basically a good man, Hermione. A rude and fairly caustic one, but he knows what's right."

"Right," said Hermione, unable to stop herself from shaking her head in disbelief. "Basically good."

"You know, he does think of you as one of his brightest students," Minerva said. "He respects you, Hermione, and that's something, isn't it?"

"Mmm," said Hermione as she looked down at her stew. "It's something."

"Severus doesn't respect many people, you know," Minerva went on. "Only those he truly sees as his equal in some way. I'm sure he sees you as his equal in intellect. Which _is_ rather flattering when one considers just how brilliant he is."

Hermione nodded. It was rather pleasing when she thought of it that way. "But wouldn't you try to treat the people you respect at least a little bit kindly?"

"Well, I certainly would," her friend answered. "But I am not Severus. I can't begin to explain why he is the way he is, Hermione. I do know, though, that he has always had a poor disposition and that he was almost as surly as a child as he is now."

"Oh," said Hermione, frowning, "I always sort of assumed he'd just grown bitter over the years because of Voldemort and all that."

"Oh no," Minerva clucked, shaking her head. "No one wizard could make such an angry and bitter man. No, Voldemort is no more to blame for Severus's disposition than you or I. It is simply just the way Severus is. Eventually you will learn to understand and accept him as he is. We all do."

Hermione held back a snort of disbelief. "I guess that we'll see soon enough."

"Don't worry," Minerva said, reaching over to pat Hermione's hand lightly with her own. "You'll be fine."

-

After lunch, Hermione tried to pass the afternoon by reading the book she had brought with her. Her mind kept straying, though, to the experiment and Snape. Eventually, the afternoon passed into the evening. Hermione went down to the Great Hall for supper where she was reminded by Minerva that she needed to write Gerald and Harry and was given the silent treatment by Snape.

After supper, she returned to her rooms. Hermione had a long soak in the large, marble bathtub that was located in the bathroom to her rooms. Afterwards, she changed into her nightie, throwing on the blue terrycloth bathrobe the elves had provided over it. She brushed her teeth, braided her hair, and washed her face. Then deciding that she was ready for bed, Hermione left her bathroom for the main chamber, knowing she had one more thing to do before she got some rest.

Crossing the room to the corner beside the fireplace, she seated herself at her desk. She pulled three leafs of parchment, a pot of ink, and a new quill from its top drawer and began to write.

She dated the first parchment and addressed it to Gerald's office. '_Dear Gerald,_' she began the letter, '_Though Professor Dumbledore may have already informed you, I have decided to conduct the experiment here at Hogwarts with Professor Snape. And before you ask, no, _nothing _has come of the meeting with him. It will be a _professional_ collaboration. So you may stop any line of thought that would lead you to other conclusions this instant._

'_I promise to floo you the moment we return, and I will have a comprehensive report on your desk the following Monday. In the mean time, please hold down the fort for me and make sure Frank doesn't blow his head off when he's working with the reactive time turners._' Adding a sincerely and her signature to the bottom of the parchment, Hermione folded the letter in thirds and placed it on the side of her desk.

The next parchment was dated and addressed to her neighbor. '_Dear Tim,_' she wrote, '_Will be doing some work here in Scotland for awhile. Do me a favor and look after Crooks until I get back? Please? I'll make you dinner for a week when I return! Thanks in advance!_' She signed that note, folded it neatly, and set it aside with Gerald's.

The third sheet of parchment she addressed to Harry's flat in London. '_Dear Harry_,' she began it, '_(and Ron, as well, if you could pass this along), I'm going to conduct my experiment on time travel potions here at Hogwarts. Dumbledore and Snape decided that such an experiment was too dangerous for me to conduct on my own. Dumbledore is making Snape perform the experiment with me._

'_Anyway, I am writing to tell you that I might not be coming back. The last person who experimented with these potions didn't return, and while some have conjectured it was a result of a choice made by the wizard, no one can say for certain. So, on the chance that I do not come back, I'd like to ask one of you to take care Crookshanks. And, I want you to know that I love you both. You both mean the world to me. Oh, and you can have any of my stuff you'd like, just be gentle with the books._' Hermione added a love and her signature to the bottom of this letter, and like the others, folded it in thirds.

Rising from her seat, Hermione gathered up her letters and stuck them in the terrycloth pockets of her robe. She moved away from her desk, crossed her rooms, and out of her door, into the hall.

As Hermione traversed the dark corridors, she decided it was very difficult to navigate her way to the owlery in the dark when she hadn't done it in at least three years. She held the lighted end of her wand out before her, wishing that it shone more brightly.

She walked through the castle quickly, hoping that she would come to the owlery soon. She had just crossed onto the floor in which its doorways were when a tall, dark figure stepped out of the shadows and said, "Twenty points from…oh."

Hermione froze on spot as the light from her wand helped her make out the identity of the person before her. "Good evening, Professor," she said, tilting her chin up defiantly. Just as Gerald had said, he couldn't take house points from her. There was nothing to fear.

"Miss Granger," Snape sneered. "Out after curfew?"

"Yes," she replied. "Obviously."

"Hmph," said Snape. "And what are you doing roaming the hallways in the dark?"

"I'm not in the dark," Hermione retorted. "I'm using my wand for light, as you can see."

"Fine," he snapped. "What are you doing roaming the hallways in the _near_ dark, Miss Granger?"

"Though it's none of your business," Hermione said, "I'm bringing a few letters to the owlery."

"What letters?" Snape asked, his eyes narrowed.

"It's hardly your concern!" Hermione exclaimed.

Snape said nothing, but watched her carefully.

Sighing, Hermione took a few steps forward and made to move past him. "If you'll excuse me," she began, but stopped when Snape suddenly stepped in front of her, barring her path.

"I didn't intend to go with you, Miss Granger," he snarled, narrowing his eyes as he peered down at her face.

Hermione was slightly taken aback by the expression of shyness that seemed to overtake his face. However, she supposed it might just be the play of shadows against his features, for it was highly unlikely that Severus Snape could ever feel awkward or shy around her. "And I didn't intend to bring you with me, Professor Snape," she replied. "But the headmaster apparently had other ideas."

"My intentions," Snape continued, as though he had not heard her, "were to simply watch over you as you took the potion, to make sure it did not react poorly with your system."

"Yes, you mentioned that earlier," Hermione said, "But, I suppose you won't be able to do that now, will you?"

"I am not pleased with this, Granger," he growled, leaning over her imposingly.

"I didn't think you were, _Snape_," she retorted, "but I'm not exactly dancing with joy, either, so why don't we just try to make the best out of a poor situation, all right?"

Snape said nothing and stared at her silently for a few moments. Eventually, though, he nodded quickly and stepped aside so that she might pass.

Hermione shook her head confusedly as she scurried away him and continued hurriedly in the direction of the owelry. Once she got there, she commissioned three owls to deliver her letters and sent them on their way. When she got back to the hallway, she was pleased to find that Snape had moved on.

She returned quickly to her rooms. Once there, she took off her bathrobe and tossed it onto the floor beside her bed. She placed her wand on her nightstand before climbing into the bed. She lay down, snuggling into the soft sheets, and sighed.

Snape certainly wasn't pleasant, but he _was_ brilliant. And just as he had said, this was a unique opportunity for the both of them. She resolved then not to let him get the best of her. Hermione muttered, "_nox_," and flooded the room with darkness.

She closed her eyes and willed herself to fall asleep. She had a sneaking suspicion she was going to need her energy the following day.

-

Hermione took her time at breakfast the next day, spending as much time as possible saying good bye to Minerva and promising her to tell her all about the journey when she got back. Before she knew it, though, clocks throughout the castle struck ten, and Hermione made her way to the Room of Requirement.

When she got there, the first thing she noticed was that the floor of the Room of Requirement was cushioned. The second was that Dumbledore and Snape were waiting for her. The older of the two stood with a cheerful expression fixed upon his face and the younger stood scowling down at the padded floors. That the floor was covered in a cushioning material made her _slightly_ nervous, but that Snape could only look at it with disdain was, in her opinion, fairly amusing.

"Right on time, Miss Granger! Perfect! Now to business," Dumbledore said, grinning at she and Snape in turn. "Here are your letters of recommendation. I imagine you want to keep them in your bag, Miss Granger?"

"Yes sir," Hermione said, taking the two sealed envelopes from the headmaster and sticking them in her book bag.

"And this," Dumbledore said, pulling something out of his pocket, "is the token you are to use to validate your story."

"It's a paperweight," Snape said, pulling his gaze from the floor to look at the object cradled in Dumbledore's hand.

Hermione inspected the bronze item in Dumbledore's palm. Sure enough, it was a paperweight, and it bore the Hogwarts crest.

"Yes," Dumbledore said, nodding. "But it's one of a kind and belongs in one very specific spot!"

"The desk of the headmaster of Hogwarts?" Snape asked, sneering.

"Exactly!" the elderly man exclaimed. "So here you are, my dear," he said, handing the item to Hermione. "Put it in your bag. Oh and Severus, give her the Beautification Potions as well."

Hermione stuck the paperweight into her bag as Snape reached into his robes' pocket and pulled out three, large vials all containing a shimmering, pink potion. He wordlessly handed them to Hermione who plucked them from his grasp and placed them inside her bag beside the other potions.

"Well," Hermione said as she fastened her bag closed and laced her arms through the straps. "I think that's all."

"Yes," Dumbledore said. "All you two have to do now is take the potion and go on your way."

"Erm," said Snape, glancing at Hermione quickly before directing his attention to Dumbledore. "A word, if you will, Headmaster."

"Of course!" Dumbledore replied, and the two of them stepped towards the door to speak in private.

Hermione did her very best to ignore anything they might be saying, keeping her attention on her fingernails. Though she managed to tune out their words, she could not help but identify the urgent tones of Snape's voice and the placating, soothing sounds of Dumbledore's words. Eventually, though, they fell into silence and Hermione looked in their direction to see they were once again approaching her.

"Well," Dumbledore said, "I believe it is time."

Hermione nodded and reached into her pocket to pull forth the two vials of the green potion she had placed there before leaving her rooms that morning. She handed one of them to Snape and kept one for herself. Unstopping the vial, Hermione lifted it in a salute to both of the Professors.

"See you," she said, giving them a small smile. And tossing the vial's contents back, she downed it all in one shot.

-  
_Note: Thanks for reading and thanks to those of you who have reviewed! Sorry that it has taken so long to update, but I have been without an internet connection for awhile. I will try to update more regularly now. Until next time!_


	6. Five

Disclaimer: The characters, settings, etc. of the Harry Potter series are not mine. I just play with them.

**Regarding Time Travel  
**_Five_

Hermione Granger had been a good girl for all of her life. And while she did enjoy an occasional alcoholic drink, her experiences with mind altering substances had never taken her beyond the slightly spinning room in which it was usually fairly difficult to accurately perceive depth.

Therefore, when the room started spinning violently and colors began rushing past her at what she imagined was the speed of light, she could only guess that this _might _be what a psychedelic trip was like. She was greatly reminded, though, of a movie she had watched as a child in which a witch charmed a bed to travel from place to place. She distinctly remembered the scene in the film when the witch and the children she cared for used the bed to travel from their country home to London. Colors and images had whirred past them quickly until, quite suddenly, they came to a stop atop their bed at their destination.

And just as they had in the film, the colors and images suddenly stopped whirring by, and Hermione toppled over quite ungracefully, landing on her bum on the cushioned floor of the Room of Requirement.

"Ooh," she whimpered, closing her eyes for a moment in an attempt to still the room.

A few seconds later, her eyes still closed, she heard a strangled cry and a grunt as the cushioned floor shifted slightly when someone else landed on it beside her. Taking a chance, Hermione opened her eyes. She was pleased to find that the room had stilled and that Severus Snape had arrived.

"Well," Hermione said to Snape, who was clutching his head with his hands and staring at the floor. "That was different."

"I haven't seen anything like that since I was twenty," Snape grumbled. "Good gods above, I never want to again."

Hermione sighed. "Well, there is always the return trip, Professor."

Snape moaned, and Hermione watched as he suddenly lay back on the floor and closed his eyes. "Can't we wait a few moments, Miss Granger?"

"Of course we can!" Hermione replied, grinning at him even though he could not see it. "Certainly. You wait until you're settled and then we'll head back." She paused to look around the room as she chewed on her bottom lip thoughtfully. "Anyway, we need to figure out what year it is."

And with a gentle pop, a calendar appeared on the floor beside her. "Ah," she said, picking it up and flipping it to January. "This room is so useful."

Snape made a grunting noise. "What year is it?"

"1978," Hermione said as she read the top of the calendar. "How lovely! The year my parents married!"

He sat up suddenly and fixed his gaze upon her. "1978?" he repeated.

"Yes," Hermione said, showing him the calendar.

"What month?" he asked, and of their own volition, the pages of the calendar flipped until it displayed April.

"April!" Hermione read aloud, beaming at him.

"Why on earth are you so damn chipper?" Snape groused, grabbing the calendar from her hands.

"Because Severus," Hermione began in a sing-song tone, "we've successfully conducted the first half of our experiment!"

"Don't call me that," he grumbled.

"Call you what?" Hermione asked, frowning.

"You called me by my first name" he said, still staring at the calendar. "Don't do that."

"Oh," Hermione said, blushing when she realized that he was right. "I'm sorry."

Snape waved a hand at her apologies. "April 1978," he muttered. "Goodness."

"Yes," Hermione nodded. "That is a long time ago."

Snape looked at her, narrowing his eyes. "It's my seventh year," he said. "In about a month, I'll take the Dark Mark."

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed, not exactly knowing what to say next. "I'm sorry?"

Snape snorted. "Why? It's in the past, Miss Granger," he sighed and dropped the calendar to the floor. "I think it's time we went back."

"Right," Hermione said, taking her book bag off of her back and setting in on the ground before her. "Let me just get the potions out." Hermione rifled through her bag until she found the two vials of the return potion. She grabbed them out of the bag and handed one to Snape.

"Well," she said as she closed her bag, put her arm through one of the straps, and uncorked her vial. "Bottom's up!" she exclaimed. And in one swallow, Hermione downed the entire potion.

She immediately held on tightly to her bag waiting to feel the rush of the air as she flew through time and scrunched her eyes closed against the colors and images that would inevitably whir past her at a sickening speed. But instead of the reaction she expected, Hermione felt nothing.

She gripped her bag tighter supposing that it might take a few seconds to activate.

A few seconds passed. And then a few more. And then more yet. Eventually, Hermione decided to open one eye to peer at Snape and see if he had gone anywhere.

He hadn't. He sat in the same spot he had landed when they'd arrived giving her what Ron had once referred to as the Evil Glare of Death.

"Oh," said Hermione quietly. "Oh, fuck."

-

'_Bugger,_' thought Hermione as she paced the Room of Requirement, wringing her hands. '_Fuck, bugger, shit._'

"Your thoughts are so loud, I can hear them from here," Snape snapped as he looked from the parchment to the third vial of return potion. He sighed, throwing the parchment down onto the table that had suddenly materialized in the middle of the room. "It appears that you followed Michelson's directions exactly." He paused, placing a forefinger on his chin as he thought. "Michelson's directions have to be correct. None of his recipes ever failed. That means that there must have been some minute flaw in your brewing that is invisible to the naked eye." He sighed. "I won't be able to figure this out without a full lab work up."

"What?" Hermione squeaked as she ceased pacing, but continued to wring her hands frantically. "What does that mean, exactly?"

"It means that you are going to calm yourself, Miss Granger, and that we are going to find Albus Dumbledore, explain our situation and do our very best to find a way to get back to our time as soon as possible."

Hermione felt as though she was going to faint. "How could I have mucked up a potion? I've never improperly brewed a potion. Never!"

"Well," Snape sneered, "I do believe there is a first time for everything."

Hermione frowned. "This is awful. I can't believe we're stuck here." She sighed and looked over at Snape. "How long do you think it will take to sort this mess out?"

Snape shrugged. "I can't say precisely," he said. "Listen," he continued. His tone was very gentle, and Hermione wondered if this was the way he spoke to his Slytherins. "Why don't we just take our things and go to the headmaster's offices. He'll be able to help us and at least get us safely situated."

Hermione nodded and gave another sigh, walking over to where her bag rested on the table. "Here," she said, reaching inside to take out one of the vials of Beautification Potion, "you'll need some of this. Wouldn't do to pass yourself in the hall."

Snape nodded, taking the vial from her. Hermione watched him as he unstopped the vial and took a sip. The transformation was immediate; his hair went from lank, greasy, and shoulder length to soft, wavy, and short, his nose turned from a hawkish looking beak to something a bit more refined and dignified, if still a little big. His body did not change much, but Hermione supposed his shoulders might have broadened slightly. The worry lines that had creased his forehead vanished and the slight wrinkles near his eyes disappeared completely. And Hermione soon found a very attractive version of her former Potions professor standing before her.

"My," she said, "you do look nice."

He sneered down at her, but it was rendered rather ineffective by his suddenly straightened and whitened teeth. "I do believe that's the point."

Hermione frowned when she noticed his perfect teeth and full bottom lip. "I think I like you better as you were," she said softly, without thinking.

Snape's eyes doubled in size at this, and Hermione realized that, thankfully, his piercing, glittering, black eyes hadn't changed one bit. "What?"

Hermione blushed. "You're a little too perfect. It just doesn't suit you at all."

Snape smirked. "A right bastard like me should look the part, you mean?"

"No," Hermione said, shaking her head as the flush on her cheeks grew deeper. "I just don't think I've ever been attracted to pretty boys."

Snape stared at her, and Hermione continued to blush. After a few moments, he cleared his throat and looked away. "Come along, Miss Granger. Let's find Dumbledore."

-

The pair walked through the hallways of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry doing their very best to look as though they belonged there. Hermione thought it was extremely lucky that they had left the Room of Requirement while students were still in class. She glanced at her watch as they walked along and saw that they still had a full half hour before any students would appear in the hallway.

She knew, however, that even though they were unlikely to be seen by any students, this did not prevent them by being seen by a member or the staff. Nor, she realized as they passed through the corridors, would they go unseen by the gossiping portraits that began to whisper and chatter as she and Snape walked by.

Eventually they came to the gargoyle that guarded the stairway to the headmaster's office, and Hermione suddenly realized that they had a very serious problem.

"We don't have the password!" she exclaimed, her despair quite obvious in her whine.

Snape frowned and looked down at her. "It is April, is it not?"

"Yes," Hermione replied.

"In an even numbered year?"

"Right," she said, nodding.

"Then the password," Snape began, "is Cockroach Cluster."

And immediately following this pronouncement, the gargoyle statue shifted, moving aside to reveal the passageway. Hermione turned her head and gaped at her former professor.

Snape sighed and rolled his eyes. "No time for gawking, Granger. We have business to attend. Up the stairs."

Hermione stared at him. "How on earth did you do that?"

Snape frowned, but stepped past her to climb up the stairs. "You think there's no system to the old man's passwords?"

Hermione followed him quickly up the first steps, and the gargoyle slid back into place behind her. "Well, I'd never really considered it, no. I mean, isn't safer to pick the passwords at random?"

"Yes," Snape said, "but it would be a serious pain in the arse for any member of the staff who needs to see the headmaster to remember a randomly chosen password each month."

"Ah," said Hermione, "true."

They quickly came to the entryway of the headmaster's office. Without discussing what they would say or do next, Snape lifted his hand and knocked on the door quickly and perfunctorily.

"Enter!" a voice sounded from inside.

Hermione took a deep breath as Snape placed his hand on the handle and pulled the door open. She watched as he took a step inside, and she followed him in, closing the door behind her with a resounding snap.

Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk and reading a book when they entered. The office was quiet save for the whirring and humming noises of the different gizmos and gadgets that adorned his shelves. The portraits of the previous headmasters watched Snape and Hermione silently as they walked into the room; Fawkes was sleeping quietly.

The headmaster finally looked up at them when they stood before his desk. Hermione noted that he did look quite different from the Dumbledore they had left behind. His hair and beard were still their youthful shade of auburn, shot through with a few strands of gray. His eyes were as sharp as they were in the future, blue and twinkling still. "Hello," he said, grinning at them cheerily, "may I help you?"

Hermione frowned. She had no idea where to begin and was quite grateful when Snape spoke.

"Headmaster," he said, reaching forward to offer his hand. Hermione watched as the pair shook hands. When they'd finished, Snape continued. "My name, though you may not believe it, is Severus Snape. This woman here is Hermione Granger. We are visitors from the future."

Dumbledore eyed them silently for a few moments. Hermione felt his gaze was quite appraising, and noted that it lingered for a great deal of time on Snape's face. Eventually, he cleared his throat and gave them a small smile. "You are right," he said, "I do not believe you. However, I imagine that if you have truly come from the future, you have brought along some sort of proof to show me?"

"Oh yes!" Hermione said, suddenly remembering the items in her bag. "We have, sir!"

She quickly took off her bag, setting in on the floor before her, and began rummaging through it. She withdrew the paperweight and the two letters of recommendation. She placed them on his desk and offered him a tiny smile. "You said, well, your future self said that you'd recognize this paperweight as something that exclusively belongs to the headmasters and mistresses of the school. Those are letters of recommendation and introduction that you composed for us in case the worst should happen."

"The worst?" Dumbledore asked as he inspected the paperweight.

"Yes, sir," Hermione said. "You see, we came here using a potion. There is a return potion that we could use to go back, but apparently I must have mucked it up when I was brewing it because when we drank it, nothing happened. So, you see, sir, we need your help."

The headmaster glanced up at her quickly. "I see," he said and then began to open the letters of recommendation.

Hermione and Snape watched him silently as he read through the letters, and Hermione felt quite relieved when he chuckled at various intervals. After a few moments, he looked back up at the pair and smiled. "Beautification Potion, I suppose, Severus?"

"Yes, sir," Snape replied, nodding.

Dumbledore chuckled again. "Well, I certainly do become more eloquent with age." He sighed and settled back into his chair, clasping his hands before him. "There are currently no vacancies on the staff, but I do imagine some professors could do with an assistant."

Hermione could not help but to sigh with relief. "Oh, thank you, sir," she said. "Thank you so much."

He chuckled gently once more and lifted a hand to silence her. "Think nothing of it, Miss Granger. You two must be cared for, and it is best that you make yourselves useful during your stay here," he said. "Now, I suppose you'll want the Potions position, Severus?"

"Er," Hermione interjected before Snape could reply as an idea struck her, "Could I maybe have it, Headmaster?"

She did not miss the glower Snape immediately sent in her direction, but she focused, instead, on Dumbledore's look of curiosity. "It's just that," she continued, "well, _one_ of us certainly needs to be in Potions in order to have access the laboratories and ingredients and such, but I was under the impression that Professor Snape had always had a strong desire to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. So, maybe this would be a good opportunity for him to do it." She paused, a blush coloring her cheeks as she felt Snape continue to gaze at her. "Recognize a dream, maybe."

Dumbledore expression was positively joyous. "What a magnificent suggestion, Miss Granger! Surely you have no objections, Severus?"

Hermione turned her head so that she could look at Snape. He was still watching her intently, but she noted that he no longer looked angry. In fact, he looked a bit curious and maybe even slightly confused.

"No," he said as he cleared his throat and directed his attention to the headmaster, "None at all."

"Well!" Dumbledore said. "That is fantastic! I will speak with the professors today. And, I will have the elves make up the spare rooms in the dungeons for you. The ones near Slytherin house."

Snape smirked at this. "In the future," he said, "those are my quarters."

"Really?" Dumbledore said, grinning. "Well, isn't that something! I imagine you and your wife will be very comfortable there."

Hermione's eyes widened as her cheeks flushed. She tried to quickly explain to Dumbledore that she was certainly _not_ Snape's wife, but all she could do was open and close her mouth soundlessly.

Snape cleared his throat. "We aren't, erm, we aren't married, sir. Just professionals working together on a project."

"Ah," Dumbledore said, "I stand corrected." Hermione thought the twinkle in his eyes that accompanied his words disconcerting though.

"Well," he continued, "in that case, I will have the House Elves make up an extra bed in the rooms. However," he said, looking up at both of them, "perhaps it would be wise for the two you to introduce yourselves as husband and wife. It would make a good pretense, a couple interested in teaching at Hogwarts someday who decided upon coming here to give it a try."

Hermione frowned. She wasn't at all interested in pretending to be Snape's wife, but the story was at least somewhat plausible. "We'll need new names," she said.

"Yes, you will," Dumbledore agreed. "And you will need to work out the particulars of your history together. But I will leave those decisions and work to you. I suggest, however, that you try to fabricate something bland and forgettable." He stood up from his desk and glanced at his clock. "The students will have just gone to lunch. Would you like me to show you to your rooms while the halls are empty?"

"Yes, please," Hermione said as Snape nodded in agreement.

Dumbledore smiled at them both as he came around his desk. He took one of Hermione's hands in his own before doing the same with Snape's. "Remember, children," he said, "that while this may be a fairly stressful experience, one can always find a way to make it positive if he or she makes an effort to do so."

Hermione certainly did not miss the suggestive glance the headmaster cast her way before winking at Snape.

-  
_Note: Thanks for reading and many thanks to those of you who have reviewed! The movie Hermione's time travel experience reminds her of is _Bedknobs and Broomsticks _Which, if you haven't seen it, is a fabulous movie (and one of my all time favorites). Anyway, thanks again for reading! Next chapter or so should be posted this weekend!_


	7. Six

Disclaimer: The characters, settings, etc. of the Harry Potter series are not mine. I just play with them.

**Regarding Time Travel  
**_Six_

At supper that evening, Albus Dumbledore introduced two new members of the staff. Their names were Mr. and Mrs. Jamie Palmer. They had recently returned to the UK after a six year teaching stint in Italy. In fact, Mr. and Mrs. Jamie Palmer had met and married in Italy, Venice if one were interested in the details of their relationship. Their chance meeting amongst the towering and teeming shelves of an historic library had been, according to Mrs. Jamie Palmer's account, simply magical. They had both been terribly lost, searching the library for at least one guidebook written in English when they had stumbled upon each other. They were two English speaking persons, wandering through Venice quite alone and had been lucky enough to come across someone as disoriented and lonesome as they each were. They had supper together that evening. Mrs. Palmer often told those who asked that it was Mr. Palmer's eyes that had captured her during that candlelit meal and had led her to fall desperately in love with him. She would go on to say that she hadn't been able to escape them since.

Now, Mr. and Mrs. Jamie Palmer sat in the dungeon lair in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry they would be cohabitating during their stay at the castle. Both were trying desperately to pretend the other was not there.

But Mrs. Palmer, née Hermione Granger, was having a very difficult time accomplishing this. Sitting at the small desk located in the corner of the room that she had claimed as her own, Hermione found that she simply could not focus on the task she had appointed herself and was making no more sense of this Michelson text than she would be able to make of the Dead Sea Scrolls. Sighing, she turned around in her seat to see what Mr. Jamie Palmer, née Severus Snape, was doing.

Snape sat reading in one of the arm chairs before the fire. He looked quite relaxed, almost as though he didn't have a care in the world. Goodness, it was almost as if he belonged there.

Hermione frowned. He _did_ belong there. These were his rooms back in the future. She sighed once again and turned back around in her seat to again look at Michelson's notes.

"Miss Granger," Snape said a second or so later, "you're tired. Why don't you go to bed?"

She frowned again and raised an eyebrow, but did not turn around to look at him. "Eager to get rid of me, Professor?" she asked quietly as she kept her eyes on the papers before her.

He made an exasperated sound, and she could practically hear his eyes rolling. "Yes, in fact I am. You see, you're constant huffing and sighing noises are quite distracting, and I am trying to _read_, Miss Granger."

Hermione turned around quickly in her chair to give him her angriest glare. "Well, pardon me for ruining your relaxing evening at home! I apologize for actually _worrying_ about the situation we're in and for making an effort to correct it!"

Snape watched her quietly for a few moments, just as Hermione was about to turn back around in her seat, he spoke. "You realize there's no point," he began softly, "in getting worked up over this. We'll do what we can, and if we find that there's not much to be done, we will live as Mr. and Mrs. Palmer until we find an answer to our problem."

Hermione could not help but let her mouth drop open as she stared at him, horrified. "How can you be so calm about this, Snape? We have lives that we've left behind. The world and our lives and our work and our friends are moving forward. The world is charging on without us. And you don't even bat an eyelash!"

He smirked at her. "In case you hadn't noticed, Miss Granger, there isn't much about my life in the future that I enjoy." He paused to shrug. "In this particular existence, I've managed to come as close as I ever will to saddling my dream job, I still get to reside in the place that has been my home for most of my adult life, and I find myself with a rather attractive and young witch for a wife." Hermione watched the smirk transform into something that bordered on a leer. "All in all, I've got it pretty good, my dear Mrs. Palmer."

Hermione narrowed her eyes as she watched him. "Are you pissed? How much wine _did_ you have at supper? I knew I should have said something before that seventh glass."

He snorted and assumed that amused expression she had seen a few days before in his office. "Well, yes," he said, "now that you bring it up, I am believe I am fairly well lubricated."

"Hmph," said Hermione, pursing her lips in a manner that would have made Minerva McGonagall proud.

"You, my dear Miss Hermione," Snape was saying, resting his head on the back of his chair as his eyes slipped close, "should think of this as a holiday of sorts. No work, just play. In the weirdest fucking circumstances possible."

Ah. So, that was it. Though Hermione had failed to spot Snape's younger counterpart among the throngs of students in the Great Hall, he had apparently not gone unnoticed by his older self. "I imagine it was terribly odd seeing yourself at dinner," Hermione said gently.

Snape snorted. "You've no idea."

Hermione frowned. She most certainly had an idea. "In my third year," she began, "I used a time turner to take extra classes. Do you remember?"

Snape grunted. She took it as an affirmative.

"Anyway," she continued, looking down at her hands, "there were a few times I would see myself in between classes and whatnot. It is very odd to actually look yourself and see yourself objectively, as others see you." She paused to shake her head. "At first, you know, I figured if I saw myself it would just be like seeing a picture. The same sort of thing; an image of yourself. But it's just so different. Pictures are just fleeting moments. Images of instances when you're posing. Here, with this sort of thing, you see yourself as you really are. No posing. Just you as you are. It's scary, isn't it?"

When he did not immediately respond, she looked over to the chair. His eyes were still closed, and his chest rose and fell rhythmically.

Sighing, Hermione tried to make a decision. She could leave him in the chair and allow him to wake up in the morning with a terrible crick in his neck. That, she supposed, might teach him that seven glasses of wine at dinner was not conducive to a good night's sleep.

Or, she supposed, she could be understanding. She could realize that though her day had been trying, it was by no means as stressful as his had been.

Hermione stood from her seat and grabbed up her wand. Waving it in his direction, she muttered, "_Mobilicorpus_." She directed his body through the common room, through the doorway to his bedroom, and onto the bed.

She tried to set him gently atop it, but he didn't seem to notice when he bounced a little on the mattress. Hermione placed her hands on her hips, watched him as he slept on peacefully, and debated over what to do next. She doubted he slept in his robes. She'd heard rumors of a grey nightshirt, but she had no interest whatsoever in undressing him.

Hermione settled for moving to the foot of the bed and pulling off his boots. She set them down on the floor beside the bed and decided she had done her duties.

And in any case, it was probably more than he would have done for her had their roles be reversed.

She strolled over to the wardrobe that had been set up in the corner of the room. The House Elves had taken it upon themselves to supply both she and Snape with enough clothes to last them at least a month. She searched through the drawers of the wardrobe until she found what they had given her for nightclothes.

Out of the drawer Hermione pulled a very modest, very dull, and very unattractive white cotton nightgown, complete with a high neck, long sleeves, and enough length to cover the very tips of her toes. Shaking her head, she quickly transfigured the nightgown to more closely resemble her usual black cotton number. She remembered, though, to make the neckline a bit higher and to add a bit more length to the bottom than the original had.

She was determined not to give Snape a show if he happened to see her in her nightie.

Hermione took her new transfigured nightgown and walked through the common room to the spare room that Dumbledore had asked the elves to add on to the dungeon chambers. She stepped inside the bedroom, closing the door behind her. She quickly undressed and slipped into her nightclothes. When she'd done this, she placed her wand onto the nightstand, clambered onto the bed, and crawled under the covers. Once she'd curled up into a ball under the warm sheets and duvet, she closed her eyes, and whispered, "_nox_," flooding the room with darkness.

Snape had been right. She was tired and, accordingly, sleep came to her quickly.

-

Hermione was awoken just after five by the sounds of someone cursing and stumbling around in the bathroom that separated Snape's bedroom from hers. She blinked, her grogginess hindering her abilities to immediately comprehend her surroundings.

But suddenly, it all came back to her in a flood of memories, causing her stomach to flip over and her heart to beat almost erratically.

She sighed, flopping onto her side and punching her pillow in an effort to fluff it up. She heard Snape curse again, followed by the sound the toilet flushing and the shower being turned on.

She closed her eyes resolutely but knew she'd never be able to get back to sleep with all the noise the old bastard was making. She'd need to remember to put up silencing charms when she went in there to ready herself for the day. She refused to let him listen to her use the toliet. Nor could she chance that he might hear the early morning warbling that usually accompanied her hair washing.

She rolled onto her back and started to think about the day ahead of her. It was Saturday, luckily, so she didn't have to worry about assisting the Potions professor with his teaching. She did, however, have to meet with the man and go over the particulars of her responsibilities as his assistant.

She imagined Snape would be meeting with the DADA professor that day, as well. She wondered if they would have breakfast in their rooms. She doubted Snape wanted to see himself again so soon.

She frowned as she examined that line of thought a bit more closely. She knew just what it was like to see oneself; she knew the horror that accompanied being able to see, really see, just how round her arse was, how _huge_ her hair was, and that she really did walk with a bit of a stoop because of the book bag permanently attached to her back. But she didn't know what it was like to have to stand before herself in a classroom, nor did she have any idea what it was like to be forced to speak to herself at least once a week.

It was going to be wretched for him. Not only would he have to stand by and watch himself live his life, but he'd also have to watch the people he'd hated living theirs as well. For the second time in his life, he'd have to see Sirius Black and James Potter sauntering about the school. And if they were quite as bad as Harry had lamented to her one evening, then she supposed it would be quite difficult for Snape to view.

She tried to imagine just how awful it would be, by thinking of what it would like to stand by and observe herself live through her most humiliating moments without being able to help. She could barely conceive how difficult it would have been to simply stand by and watch as, for example, Snape had made fun of her teeth. Or had called her a know-it-all in front of the entire class. Or had sneered at her during the final battle when she had asked him once if he'd been hurt, causing her heart to twist in her chest and the indignant protest that she had just been trying to be nice try to escape from her lips. Or…

Goodness, why on earth could she only think of things Snape had done to her?

Well, that didn't really matter.

She turned over onto her stomach and frowned as another thought struck her. This had the potential to be a quite dangerous situation. Voldemort was reaching the heights of his power. He was, of course, not a wizard to be trifled with. If anyone recognized Snape, if any _Slytherin_ recognized Snape, and word got round to Voldemort, well, to put it in the simplest terms possible, they would be totally, completely, buggered.

She supposed Voldemort would want information from Snape. Would demand to know why he hadn't gone to him immediately to help him with his knowledge of the future. Snape, either Snape, could very likely end up dead.

Hermione turned onto her back and sighed, her brow furrowed as the full implications of their situation finally settled into her mind.

Snape was in danger. She'd had unwittingly taken him into a life or death situation. But was it her fault? Had she forced him to come?

No. No, Albus bloody Dumbledore had done _that_. But she was the one who'd simply _had_ to conduct the experiment. She was the one who couldn't just go on her own, like a big girl, and deal with whatever situation she'd been presented with to the best of her abilities.

And now Snape might die because of she hadn't.

She heard the shower shut off and the sounds of him stepping out of the shower. She waited at least thirty seconds before she launched herself out of her bed, scurried across the floor, and flung the bathroom door open.

"Shit!" Snape yelled as she came charging in.

"You might die!" she exclaimed in response. She felt quite bad, though, when she recognized the surprise on his face and saw the way his hand clenched around the top of the towel at his waist.

He raised an eyebrow and placed his free hand on his chest. "God willing," he murmured, rubbing at his chest. It was only now that Hermione realized Snape was, for all accounts and purposes, standing before her naked. And soaking wet, as well.

She swallowed quickly. Why on earth was she finding the sight of his dripping wet hair and the droplets of water beading on his chest and shoulders appealing? Why wasn't she running from the room screaming?

Snape sighed as he leaned back against the sink and stared at her. "Did you have a nightmare or something, Miss Granger?"

"No," she said, feeling her cheeks redden. "I was just thinking about the nightmarish situation we've found ourselves in."

He nodded. "I see."

"I was just thinking," she continued, "about what would happen if someone recognized you and went to Vold—the Dark Lord."

"I have the Beautification Potion, Miss Granger," he said. "As long as I take it in the mornings before we go down to breakfast, then no one will ever see me in a form that could be even called remotely familiar."

Hermione blinked as she looked up at him. She hadn't really noticed when she'd come barging in, but he did look like himself again. The potion must have worn off sometime during the night. "But it doesn't change your voice. It doesn't change your personality."

He smirked. "None of these people know me as an adult, Miss Granger. I am as much a stranger to them as myself as I am as Mr. Jamie Palmer." He paused to give her a serious look. "You needn't worry yourself about me. Just worry about keeping your head down and endeavoring to not draw too much attention to yourself. We must leave this time causing as little change as possible."

Hermione watched as the smirk reasserted itself on his face before he continued. "Though I imagine the attractive, young, female addition to the staff will sadly create a few cases of unrequited love amongst the male half of the student body."

She frowned. "Are you still drunk?"

He snorted. "If only. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a potion to take and clothes to put on." And Hermione watched as he swept out of the bathroom and into his bedroom, closing the door that separated the two rooms swiftly behind him.

The action, she thought as she stripped off her nightie and cast a silencing charm as she prepared herself for her own shower, was not quite as dramatic when he was clad in only a towel.


	8. Seven

Disclaimer: The characters, settings, etc. of the Harry Potter series are not mine. I just play with them.

**Regarding Time Travel  
**_Seven_

They breakfasted together in the common room of their chambers. Hermione had already seated herself at their dining table and had begun to munch on her fresh fruit when Snape emerged from his bedroom, fully dressed and fully transformed into Mr. Jamie Palmer.

She found it slightly odd when he seated himself across from her at the small circular table and poured himself a cup of tea, to be looking into the face of a complete stranger. She knew he was the same man she had known for a very large chunk of her life, but at the same time he wasn't.

"Why are you gawking now?" he asked, his tone sounding impatient.

"You're you," she said, "but you don't look like you."

He snorted as he poured a bit of milk into his tea. "A very astute observation, Miss Granger." A small smirk formed on his face. "Or shall I call you Mrs. Palmer?" He raised his eyes to look into hers. "Which do you prefer, wife?"

Hermione shrugged. "You could call me by my first name. That _is_ what husbands and wives do." She didn't know why this suggestion would make her blush, but it did.

"My parents," Snape began as he picked up the copy of the Daily Prophet from the breakfast tray, "always referred to each other as Lord and Mistress Snape."

Hermione frowned, watching him as he unfolded the paper and began to read. "My parents call each other by their first names."

"Your parents are muggles," he replied from behind the paper.

"And?" she asked.

"And," he said, bending the paper slightly so that he could peer over it at her, "the way of muggles is not the way of purebloods."

"Well, lucky for you I'm not a pureblood," Hermione retorted.

Snape snorted, but said nothing as he straightened the paper and went back to his reading.

Hermione sighed and picked up a grape, popping it into her mouth quickly. Of course she had to end up married to the most disagreeable bastard on the planet. Even if they weren't really married. And even if, honestly, she didn't find him all that disagreeable. She knew from past experience that he could be worse. As of late, he was just occasionally slightly infuriating.

Hermione stuck another grape in her mouth and frowned. Why was she thinking this way? Was she ill? First there was the fixation with the water on his chest and now _this _terribly odd train of thought.

She slapped a hand to her forehead to check her temperature a bit too enthusiastically than she had intended. "Oh!" she murmured, causing Snape to bend down the corner of his paper to glance at her quickly. She scowled at him and he resumed his reading without saying a word.

While her forehead was warm, it wasn't excessive. Maybe it was just the roaring fire that had to be kept going to keep the dungeons warm. And maybe it was these high necked, oppressive black teaching robes that the House Elves had selected for her to wear.

She'd had half a mind that morning to transfigure them into something with a bit more color and a bit of a lower neckline when she'd pulled them out of the wardrobe. But she'd realized that she was supposed to be a teacher's assistant now. This, in turn, made her into a sort of professional, and it would be best to look like one, even if she did just look like a female version of her husband.

Of Snape! Damn it all, what was wrong with her that she couldn't get it straight! She looked like a female version of Severus bloody Snape who was certainly _not_ her husband and certainly _not_ attractive when he looked like himself and not some pretty-boy façade!

She sighed and bit off a piece of the melon slice on her plate. It was quite good.

"Miss Granger," Snape said abruptly, folding the paper and setting it onto the table before him. "I have no idea whatsoever as to what in heaven's name is going on in your head, but I suggest you resolve whatever little problem it is that you have _quickly_ before I hex you into silence!"

"I didn't say anything," she frowned.

"No," he said, "you did not. But all of the sighing and squeaking is just as annoying as if you'd decided to take it upon yourself to lecture me on the uses of moon stone in potions making! Now, would you please desist in all of that noise making?"

"If you stop making enough noise to wake the dead when you shower in the morning!" Hermione retorted.

"I do not make noise!" he said, but she didn't miss the slight flush that arose on his cheeks.

"Oh no," she scoffed. "Oh no, you're quiet as a mouse, stumbling around and cursing. Quiet as a church mouse."

Snape gave her the Evil Glare of Death, but he said nothing. Hermione watched him as he silently picked up his paper, unfolded it, and went back to reading.

Well, Hermione thought as she took another bite of the melon, perhaps she could count that as a victory.

-

Hermione sat before the desk of the Potions Master and looked at the wall that stood behind it. It was covered by certificates of recognition, awards for outstanding contributions to the field, and displayed prominently in the middle of the wall was a diploma awarded to one, Mr. Thomas Dabny.

Thomas Dabny, Hermione quickly discovered, was a short, rotund man whose stride was plagued by a distinct waddle. Thomas Dabny dressed in all purple, wore his silver hair short and slicked back, and adorned his face with both a grey handlebar moustache and a large grin.

"You must be Mrs. Palmer!" he exclaimed as he entered the office.

"Yes," Hermione said as she stood from the seat she'd taken to greet him. "But please call me Hermione," she said as she shook his hand warmly.

"Certainly!" he said. "You must call me Thomas. Please, take a seat."

She smiled at him and resumed her seat in the chair she had vacated. He waddled over to his chair behind the desk and sat down quickly. "So!" he began. "Italy, eh? What part?"

"A small village outside of Venice," Hermione supplied automatically and was surprised at how smoothly it flowed from her mouth. "We taught, of course, at the Venetian School of Magic. Our residence was just outside of the city, though."

Thomas shook his head and gave a wistful sigh. "To live in Venice!" he said. "To work in Venice, no less. You and your husband are very lucky, Mrs. Palmer. That is one opportunity I will never have."

Hermione grinned at him. "I never dreamed I'd end up there, but life has a way of sending you where it will."

He smiled back. "Too true, Hermione. Too true. Now, I suppose you'd like to know a bit about the work you'll be doing with me?"

"Yes," Hermione replied, "please."

Dabny offered her another grin. "I will ask you to help me create the potions in demonstrations for the students. Well, truthfully, I will probably have you make the potions while I lecture about them. Will this be problematic?"

"No, sir," Hermione replied, confident that she would be able to brew any of the potions that the professor might teach.

"Good, good," he said, lifting a long scroll from the desk. "This is the syllabus," he said, handing it over to her. "I've included, there at the bottom, your weekly schedule. You'll see our first class on Monday morning is Advanced Potions with Gryffindor and Slytherin houses."

Hermione gulped but hoped he didn't notice. "And that is with, erm, seventh years?"

"Yes, that's right," he replied. "This," he said as he handed her yet another scroll, "is a copy of my lesson plans for this week. I expect you to come to class fully prepared and well versed in what we will be teaching each day. I do plan to hand over the lectures to you on occasion in order to give you some more practice lecturing." He paused to chuckle gently. "It never does to let the wheels of the carriage rust, I always say."

Hermione smiled at him. "Yes, sir."

"So," he went on, "Albus said something about your desiring a lab for an experimental potion you've been working on."

"Oh, yes," Hermione replied, sitting up a little straighter. "If you happen to have a spare lab and it wouldn't be too much trouble, it would be most helpful if I could use it."

"Certainly!" Thomas said, grinning as he suddenly stood from his seat. "Just come this way!"

Hermione also stood from her chair and followed the rotund little man as he waddled to the door to his offices, into the classroom. She trailed behind him as he crossed the classroom over to one of the various unmarked doors on the other side of the room. In her childhood, Hermione had always supposed these to be storage closets, though she really hadn't given the doors more than a passing thought. She'd been far too busy paying attention to the lectures.

"You can use this one here," Dabny said, stopping in front of the door that was furthest to the right and closest to the front of the room. "It has the best stocked supply cabinet of the lot. The password is 'dayfly.'"

Hermione nodded in response, quickly absorbing all of the information. "Right," she said, "thank you."

"Not a problem," Thomas replied, grinning at her. "Well, Mrs. Palmer, I do think that's all. If you'd excuse me, I have some essays to mark. I will see you on Monday morning."

"Yes," Hermione said, "Yes, of course."

Dabny nodded once before turning and waddling his back across the classroom, re-entering his office, and shutting the door behind him.

Hermione turned back to the door and stared at it for a few second. "Dayfly," she said, crisply and clearly. It was punctuated by the sound of a latch moving, and when Hermione tried the door, it opened easily.

She stepped inside the room, coughing on the dust the movement of the door stirred up. She coughed again, before pulling out her wand and quickly muttering, "_Scourgify_." She was pleased to see the dust vanish quickly, the marble countertops lining the room gleaming in their newfound cleanliness.

She crossed the small room to the corner where the supply cabinet was kept. She opened it and peered inside. It looked as though it contained all of the ingredients she would need to once again try to recreate Michelson's return potion. She would have to bring the notes with her though and recheck the stores before she could be sure.

Deciding there was no time like the present, Hermione closed the storage cabinet and left the lab. Closing the door behind her as she stepped into the classroom, she heard the door lock itself automatically. She walked across the room to the doorway, exiting into the dungeon hallway.

She walked the approximate six meters that took her to the door of her own chambers. Hermione muttered the password quickly, opening the door and stepping inside.

She was quite unprepared for the sight that greeted her.

"Ah!" Snape exclaimed from where he sat in one of the high backed leather chairs. Hermione watched him place his tea cup on the coffee table that rested before him as he stood from the chair. "Darling, you've come back," he said as he crossed the room to where she stood by the doorway.

"Yes," she said as he took her in his arms and dropped a chaste kiss on the side of her mouth. She tried not to squeak in shock at the feel of his lips very near, if not quite against, hers. She tried not to give into the urge to grab the back of his head when he pulled away to bring him back for more. But, as she was displeased to discover, it was very difficult to accomplish.

"I'm glad to see you," he said, taking her by the hand and leading her over to the chairs before the fire, where tea was laid out. "You must get better acquainted with our new colleague."

Hermione fixed a grin on her face as he pushed her to stand before the other, occupied, leather chair.

"Darling," he said, "this is Minerva McGonagall. She teaches Transfiguration."

A younger, but just as stern looking, version of her former professor and friend rose from the chair, extending her hand to Hermione. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Palmer."

"You also," Hermione replied, shaking her hand. "Transfiguration?" she asked.

"Yes," Minerva said, resuming her seat.

"How interesting," Hermione said, turning to look about for a seat to take as Snape sat in the chair he had just vacated.

"Yes," Minerva said once more as she conjured a chair from nothing to rest beside Snape's. "Quite useful as well."

"Er," Hermione said as she settled herself into the newly made chair before turning her attentions back to McGonagall. "Quite."

"Mr. Palmer tells me that you taught Potions in Venice," Minerva said, taking a sip of her tea.

"Oh yes," Hermione replied, nodding quickly. "Yes, I did."

"And are acting as Professor Dabny's assistant this term?" Minerva prompted.

"Right," Hermione said. "Right, yes. Um, Jamie," she said as she turned to look at Snape. "What sort of tea is this?"

"Darjeeling, darling," Snape replied, giving her an easy smile.

"Oh, lovely," said Hermione, reaching out to lift the teapot and pour herself a cup. She distracted herself with this task for a few moments and was quite happy when Snape began conversing with McGonagall.

"So, how are the quidditch teams here?" he asked. Hermione was amazed at his conversational tone, the easiness with which he made small talk.

It was very un-Snapelike.

"Well," Minerva began, "I do think Gryffindor house has a fabulous team. Though, I am rather biased since I am the head of that house."

"Oh," Snape said, nodding and smiling again. Hermione took a sip of her tea in order to hide her frown. Why was he so good at this? Why was he able to adapt to the situation with no problems whatsoever?

"We have a fabulous chaser, James Potter," Minerva went on. "I do think he could go professional, you know. He's just so talented."

"Really?" Snape asked, and Hermione was very pleased to see the hand that was not holding his teacup clench into a tight fist. "How wonderful for him. I thoroughly enjoyed quidditch as a boy, but I'm afraid I was never quite that talented."

"How's the team of Slytherin house?" Hermione asked abruptly, turning her attention to McGonagall. "Are our neighbors' team as talented as yours?"

Hermione, for some reason, took a great amount pleasure in watching her friend bristle at this question. It was just terribly amusing the way Minerva would get so worked up over a silly sport. She had never tired of watching she and Snape bicker over games when she was a student.

"They're a talented team," Minerva said stiffly. "They've a beater, Severus Snape, who is quite good. Really the only one of theirs that is worth watching."

"Really?" Hermione said, raising her eyebrows and turning to look at Snape. "We'll have to watch him then, won't we Jamie?"

He narrowed his eyes slightly. "Yes, darling. I suppose we will."

"I do enjoy watching quidditch," Hermione said, looking back to McGonagall. "But I'm afraid I was never one for playing the game. Honestly, you'd be hard pressed to even get me on a broomstick, let alone convince to take my hands off the handle in order to catch and toss quaffles around."

Minerva gave her a tight lipped smile. "I know precisely what you mean, Mrs. Palmer. Quidditch is a very dangerous and frightening sport."

"Indeed," Hermione said, smiling back at her before bringing her teacup to her mouth to take another sip.

The trio fell into an awkward silence then, and Hermione wracked her brain for something to talk about while occupying her mouth by taking sip after sip of tea.

"Well," Minerva said suddenly, setting her teacup onto the coffee table. "It was nice meeting the both of you, but I have papers I must have marked for Monday and lesson plans to make." She stood from her seat, and Snape and Hermione quickly followed suite. "I will see the two of you around the castle, I imagine," she said, giving them another tight smile.

Snape nodded, grinning at McGonagall while Hermione said, "Yes, yes, of course."

McGonagall nodded, telling the pair good bye, before allowing Snape to see her out of the rooms.

When he shut the door behind her, he turned and glared at Hermione. "We'll have to watch him, will we?"

Hermione smiled, even though she knew he was angry and even though she knew it was a bad idea. And, predictably, Snape appeared to grow angrier.

"That, Miss Granger, was a very ridiculous and dangerous thing to say! Couldn't you have said something like that about Potter or anyone besides me? Did you have to draw attention to the fact that you might possibly have a specific interest in me!" he roared.

Hermione flinched slightly at his volume. "I'm sorry, Professor."

"You will be," he said, as he turned to stalk towards his bedroom, "when I'm found out and killed. And you're left on your own to find a way back to the future. That is, of course, if they don't kill you."

He passed out of their common room and into his bedroom, but did not shut the door. Hermione took this as reason enough to continue the conversation, and followed after him.

"Professor," she said when she entered his bedroom, surprised with the sight of him unbuttoning his robes.

"What?" he snarled, not looking at her.

"I, erm, I think Minerva is suspicious of us," Hermione said. "I think she might not completely believe our story."

"Oh?" Snape said, turning to look at her as he jerked open the buttons of his robes, slowly revealing the white shirt that lay beneath. "Whatever gave you that idea, my darling Mrs. Palmer?"

Hermione frowned. "Her behavior. She wasn't very kind."

"Indeed," Snape said, finally having undone the buttons to his robes. Hermione said nothing as he pulled it off his shoulders and tossed it onto the bed. "Though, I do not think she is any more suspicious of us than she would be any other person who'd appeared in the middle of term looking for a position as a teaching assistant."

"Oh," Hermione said quietly. "I see."

"Congratulations," Snape replied as he sat down at the end of the bed. "Is there something more?"

Hermione shrugged. "Not really." She paused, biting on her bottom lip and trying to think of the correct way to phrase her next sentence. "You did really well back there, Professor. It was really convincing, the kiss and the endearments and everything."

"I was not a spy for nothing, Miss Granger," he said softly, glancing away from her. "Besides," he continued, "sometimes it's rather, ah, _nice_ to play pretend, don't you think?"

Hermione felt her cheeks grow heated as she shrugged.

"Now, if you'll excuse me," Snape said, standing up and returning his gaze to her, "I'd like to take a nap before dinner, and unless you plan on joining me, I'd like it if you'd leave my room."

"Sorry," she said, quickly, backing up and turning around. She practically ran towards the door, snapping it closed it behind her as she scurried back into the common room.

She heaved a great sigh as she leaned back against the door. It was abnormal, in her opinion, that listening to him simply speak about playing pretend was enough to make her stomach and heart flutter spasmodically.

-  
_Note: Thanks for reading! And many, many thanks to those of you who have been kind enough to review. I appreciate it!_


	9. Eight

Disclaimer: The characters, settings, etc. of the Harry Potter series are not mine. I just play with them.

**Regarding Time Travel  
**_Eight_

Placing her hand in the crook of his elbow, Hermione allowed Snape –no, Jamie—to lead her into the Great Hall. They walked between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables to the Head Table, and once there, Hermione allowed her husband –no, Snape—to pull out her chair for her, thanking him quietly as she sat down. She did her best not act surprised when, after seating himself beside her, he took her napkin from her plate and set it in her lap.

"Thank you, Jamie," she said, softly.

"You're very welcome," he replied, "my darling, Mrs. Palmer."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the form of address, but did not comment on it. She chose, instead, to turn her attentions to the person who sat on her right and bid them a good evening. She was slightly surprised to see that it was Minerva McGonagall who sat in the chair next to her and watched her with a very expectant look upon her face.

"Good evening, Professor McGonagall," Hermione said, smiling at her and hoping that this was what the woman was after.

"Please," Minerva replied, smiling back. Hermione noticed that it was a genuine smile, and not one of the tight lipped facsimiles she had received earlier. "Do call me Minerva."

"Then you must call me Hermione," she replied quickly and was only slightly puzzled by Minerva's abrupt change in demeanor. She supposed the Transfigurations professor might have spoken to the Headmaster regarding she and Snape's sudden appearance, for Dumbledore was always able to put her at ease on almost every point.

Soup appeared in the bowls before them, and Hermione, suddenly feeling quite hungry, turned away from her friend, picked up her spoon, and dug in.

"You have a very attentive husband," Minerva said softly beside her. "It's nice to see two people so very obviously in love."

"Oh," Hermione said, the smile on her face faltering slightly. "Well, we do love each other."

"He simply _adores_ you," Minerva went on.

"Oh?" Hermione said, looking down at her soup to hide the blush on her cheeks and any of the truths she feared her gaze might reveal.

"Oh yes," Minerva continued. "The way he speaks to you. His manner toward you. Why he's nothing short of positively enamored with you, my dear." She paused to chuckle. "It's just so lovely to see a couple so very much in love."

Hermione looked back up at her and offered the strongest smile she could. She then looked out at the student tables for a few moments, hoping that this would cause Minerva to pursue another line of conversation.

Her eyes drifted over the tables when her eyes suddenly landed on a boy –well, a young man, really—who sat slouching in his chair, his black hair, which he wore to his shoulders, acting as a curtain and almost completely hiding his face. There was enough left exposed, though, that Hermione could see his expression. He was frowning, scowling into his soup. He looked so sad, and Hermione could not stop the oddly sweet but aching feeling that suddenly blossomed in her chest at the sight of his familiar face.

"Oh," she sighed, "oh dear."

"Are you all right, my darling?" Snape hissed from beside her. Hermione felt his hand grasp her thigh and squeeze tightly.

She gasped, ripping her eyes from his younger form to stare into the dark eyes of his adult form. The ache grew stronger as she looked into his eyes. Because his eyes…oh, his eyes were still the same.

And inexplicably, Hermione felt herself leaning forward slightly toward Snape, her gaze locked on his eyes.

"Hermione!" he snapped in a tone full of surprise, causing her to realize that her face had been drifting closer and closer to his and, oh God. Oh God, she'd meant to kiss him.

Oh, God.

"I'm sorry, Jamie," she said, turning to look down at her soup as a flaming blush sprang up on her cheeks. "I was just feeling a little light headed."

Snape removed his hand from her thigh. "Then maybe you should eat something. You've hardly had anything to eat today."

"Yes," Hermione said, resolving to keep her eyes on her soup for the rest of the meal.

She nearly succeeded and spent most of the meal with her eyes on her food, of the table, or her lap. She didn't look up once at the students. At least, not until they started rising in clumps and packs, leaving the Great Hall for their common rooms, the library, or dark corners in which they could snog until curfew.

She looked up at the student tables when the room had mostly emptied. She'd tried her best not to glance at the Slytherin table, but, for some reason, she hadn't been able to stop herself from doing it once more. He sat there still, the sad expression seemingly etched on his face, and pushed his spoon around in his dessert plate.

The lovely aching feeling suddenly bubbled up in her chest once more, making her gasp. Both Snape and Minerva looked at her quickly, but Hermione looked neither in the eye.

"Well," she said as she pushed her chair away from the table, throwing her napkin atop her dessert plate. "I really must go. I'm quite knackered and I wanted to get a bit of research done in the laboratory before I went to bed, so I'm off."

She smiled quickly at Snape and bid McGonagall good night, before scurrying away from the Head Table. She did not, however, look again to the Slytherin table as she made her way out of the hall, for she knew far too well what she would see there.

* * *

Hermione had just finished checking the supply cabinet for all of the ingredients listed in the recipe when the door to the lab burst open. She hadn't been able to help but gasp in surprise as she turned around quickly, her hand on her chest, to see who had come into the room so forcefully.

Snape, unsurprisingly enough, stood just inside the doorway, glaring at her. "You are not, under any circumstances, to look at me that way again, Miss Granger."

She stared at him questioningly and hoped her expression was innocent enough. "Pardon?"

"I saw you," he said, "during dinner. I saw that your eyes kept wandering to Slytherin table. I saw the way you looked at me. I was not…am not…_was_ not some sort of puppy dog that you can take up in your arms and cuddle and care for until I become the loving little dog you always knew I could be. I am a human being. I _was_ a human being, I meanoh, bollocks!"

He gave a frustrated growl as he stood from his chair and raked a hand through his short, wavy, perfect hair. "Don't treat me as a project Miss Granger. I am not a pet you can take home to save. Remember that."

Hermione opened her mouth to say that she didn't do that sort of thing when she realized that she most certainly did. Why that was exactly what she'd done with Crookshanks. Surly, disagreeable, and caustic though the cat was, she had brought him home. She had loved him, loved him within an inch of his life. And even though he was still the same terrible cat he'd been the day she got him, she knew that he loved her back.

She closed her mouth and blinked as her gaze refocused on Snape's face. It was still beautiful; it still wasn't him. Giving him a small smile that she knew did not reach her eyes, she said, "Yes, Professor."

She let him stare at her for a few moments, his eyes narrowed and his gaze cautious, before she lifted Michelson's notes and waved them in the air. "We've all of the ingredients," she said, giving him another insincere smile. "We can start brewing now, if you like."

Sighing, Snape leaned against the counter that was closest to him. "Miss Granger, I don't think you understand me."

Hermione frowned, but said nothing. She was fairly surprised when he gulped, but listened when he continued to speak.

"I do not want your pity. My teenaged self does not want your pity. So please endeavor to keep your pity for our miserable existences to yourself." She noted that his voice sounded tired.

"It's not pity," she said, knowing that she probably shouldn't even discuss this with him. She might easily reveal too much of herself and her feelings to him. "It's concern. I am _concerned_ about your well being." She paused, taking a deep breath. "You looked so sad in there, Professor, and it was an expression that, well, that I've seen on you as an adult."

His eyes narrowed slightly. "And?" he hissed. "What is it to you?"

"N...nothing," she stammered, knowing quite well as the word left her mouth that it was a lie.

He watched her silently for a few moments before he spoke again. "We will begin brewing Monday evening, after classes," he said, his voice sounding very stiff. It was as though he were deliberately keeping it free of emotion. "I am far too tired at the moment to do it."

"I understand," Hermione said gently. "Let's go back to our rooms."

Snape cast her a piercing gaze and studied her silently again for a few moments. "Yes," he said eventually, "let's."

Hermione gave him a tight smile as he rounded on his heel and stalked out of the lab. She followed him quickly, making sure to snuff out the candles in the lab and close the door behind her.

She was surprised to see Snape waiting for her at the doorway that led out of the classroom and into the hallway. He seemed to read the surprise on her face. "It would not do," he said, "for husband and wife to be seen walking down a hallway but not with one another."

"Right," Hermione said as she joined him at the doorway. She was nothing short of shocked when he took her hand in his own and pulled her out into the hallway.

She tried not to think about the way the feeling of his hand, large and cool around hers, caused that feeling to stir up in her chest. She tried not to think about how right it felt to let him lead her back to their rooms. How nice it was to touch him and to feel his skin against hers.

And in her effort not to think, Hermione glanced at one of the students they passed. He was a sullen looking young man and was as tall as the man she walked beside. His dark hair fell to his shoulders, his nose was large and beaky, and his eyes were sharp, a glittering black color. He looked at her, and his was expression suspicious.

Hermione couldn't stop the shy smile that spread across her face at that familiar look. Nor could she stop the sense of longing that coiled in the pit of her stomach nor the way the ache seemed to grow stronger at the sight of him.

She felt her arm being jerked, her attention following the movement.

"Come along, wife," Snape hissed from beside her.

Hermione did not dare glance up at him. She couldn't look him in the eye. Not just yet. She was too confused, too befuddled by her feelings for the man who stood beside her and the young man who had just walked past her.

When they came to their rooms, Snape muttered the password quickly. Pulling her hand from his grasp, Hermione brushed past him, opening the door and running inside, across their common room to the door to her bedroom. She slipped inside, and quickly shut and warded the door behind her.

Hermione leaned back against the door for a few moments, waiting until her breathing evened out before throwing herself on top of her bed and burying her face in her pillow. She sighed and inhaled the scent of the clean sheets. It reminded her of her childhood.

But, she realized as she turned on to her back and stared at the ceiling, her childhood had been long ago. She was an adult, now. And it was all right to have adult feelings. It was all right that she was experiencing these feelings. Feelings, she supposed, that were of love and desire. Even if they were for Severus Snape.

Because that was the truth, and she could recognize it now. She had feelings for Severus Snape. Strong feelings, actually. And she needed to get a hold of them so that she could put an end to this silly behavior. For although Hermione was not sure of much at the moment, she was quite certain that no matter how much she might come to care for Snape, no matter how deep or true of a love she might develop for him, her feelings would always be unrequited.

* * *

After taking a long bath and changing into her transfigured nightie, Hermione decided that she could do with a warm cup of tea before she went to sleep. However, there was the serious problem of the only fireplace and, accordingly, floo connection to the kitchen being in the common room. And it was quite likely that this was where Snape was probably sitting and reading.

But Hermione _needed_ that tea. She needed the tea more than she needed to avoid seeing Snape because her nerves were completely frazzled. So, mustering up the last dredges of her Gryffindor courage, Hermione padded across her bedroom, pulled open her door, and stepped out into the living room.

She supposed the best course of action would be to ignore Snape, and she did so, pretending she could not see him seated in one of the leather chairs from the corner of her eye. Walking purposefully over to the hearth, she reached up and pulled a handful of powder from the urn that rested atop the mantle. She tossed it into the flames and called out, "Kitchens!"

Within seconds, the long eared, long snouted face of a particularly ugly house elf appeared in the flames. "Oh, Mistress Palmer! How can Minky help Mistress Palmer?"

Hermione bent over so that she could look the elf in the eye. "I'd like some tea, please. Chamomile, if you have it."

"Straight away, Mistress!" Minky exclaimed. "Straight away!"

"Thank you," Hermione said, standing straight when the elf's head disappeared. She turned around to look at the table where a large cup of tea and a small plate of chocolate biscuits had already appeared.

Very pleased with the speedy service of the elves, Hermione traipsed over to the table, sitting down. She took a sip of the warm tea and sighed. It was precisely what she had needed.

However, the sudden snort that erupted from Snape at that moment was exactly what she did _not_ need.

"Yes?" she asked, turning her head so that she might look at him. She only noticed now that the potion had worn off and that he looked very much like himself. Accordingly, all of the feelings that she had experienced when she'd seen his younger self quickly overwhelmed her, stronger and more forceful than ever before. Now that she'd taken him in fully, she could see that he was wearing the grey nightshirt Harry had once told her the house elves distributed to all male guests. Hermione could not help but note the muscular, hairy, pale legs that were crossed at the knee that poked out from beneath the hem of the shirt which rose up past his knees ever-so-slightly.

"You very nearly exposed yourself when you were stooping before the fire, Miss Granger," he said, sneering at her.

She blushed. "Well, I _am_ wearing knickers."

"Yes, I know," he continued. "That is a lovely shade of lilac."

Hermione's eyes widened as her cheeks reddened further. She turned her gaze to her plate of biscuits and concentrated very hard on paying no attention to the man sitting a few feet away.

In fact, she was concentrating so hard on the plate that she did not even notice when he crossed the room. Nor did she notice when took up the seat beside her until he reached out one of his pale, long fingered hands and plucked one of the biscuits from the plate.

Hermione looked up at him and scowled. He merely raised an eyebrow as he took a bite of the cookie. "Something wrong, Miss Granger?"

"Those are my biscuits," she said.

"Really?" he asked, the eyebrow rising higher. "Have you a certificate of ownership? A license? A title or a deed? Something that can prove that these are _exclusively _your biscuits?"

She narrowed her eyes. "I am _not_ in the mood, Snape."

"That's funny, Granger," he said, taking another bite, "because the way you were waving your arse in front of me suggested otherwise."

Hermione's mouth dropped open. She tried her best to come up with a retort, but all she could do was gawk at him, open mouthed and wide eyed.

He smirked. "Ah, so I'm onto something then?" He leaned forward so that his long, beaky nose came very close to her own. His voice was low and gentle, and much to her dismay, caused Hermione's stomach to shiver in a way that was not at all unpleasant. "Is that why you look at me that way when we pass me in the halls? Is that the source of your preoccupation at dinner and why you nearly snogged me in front of the entire school? Are you harboring some misguided school girl fancy, Hermione?"

"Don't call me that," she hissed, rather hurt by the way he spoke about her feelings for him and rather put off that she had been so transparent.

"Call you what?" Snape asked, a perplexed expression crossing his face as he leaned away from her slightly.

"You called me by my first name," she said as she stood from her seat. "You cannot be a total prat and then go on to call me by my first name." She picked up her tea cup and crossed the room to her bedroom doorway.

Once there, she opened the door, and stepped just inside the room, pausing to look back at Snape and survey him with her gaze. She was rather pleased with how puzzled by her reaction he appeared to be. "Pleasant dreams, Professor," she said, smirking at him just before shutting the bedroom door behind her with a loud, resolute snap.

_

* * *

Note: Thanks so much for reading! And thanks to those who have reviewed! More to come soon._


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